Living in Montreal, I have lived through the years when the so-called mayor was nothing more than a an invisible man, nowhere to be seen or found while the mafia-owned-and-runned city fell apart.
Am I in love with the new mayor? Not particularly. But what I do love is the fact that he a present, engaged, visible mayor that goes about town and gives himself the appearance of getting shit done - whether or not he does in actual fact is open to debate, but at least he's OUT THERE and not hiding behind the closed door of a downtown office.
I don't agree with everything he says and does. His stance on the sacrosanct home-delivery of mail is, to me, wildly hyperbolic and made to cater to the 60+ crowd - the same belly-achers that will get their doctors to get them disabled parking passes to avoid walking 20 extra feet to get to the doors of the mall, or request wheelchairs to get per-boarding privileges in Fort Lauderdale, but are miraculously cured as the elbow you in the ribs to get off the plane and into the customs line first. On the mail issue, I must say this: I have lived on the island of Montreal almost my entire adult life, and not at any of the 3 properties I lived in was the mail delivered to my door. I have not been killed, injured or maimed by walking the 35 feet required to get to my communal mailbox. If you can walk, you can get your mail. If you CAN'T walk, then I sympathize and would support specific door-delivery for you.
But here's where I do agree with Mr. Mayor : standing up to the screeching, whining blue collar workers who are outraged - OUTRAGED, I tell you - that they are being sanctioned for deciding to suddenly walk off their jobs and attend union meetings because... because... well, BECAUSE. They have a contract until 2017, they are not negotiating a new one, and there is no valid reason to be striking, other than they appear to be jealous of the attention the other public-sector employees are getting. They are victims of a smear and hate campaign on the part of the media and the administration who aren't even decent enough to recognize that blue collar workers give out Christmas baskets.... Wait, what?
WTF does Christmas baskets have to do with the fact that you have a valid contract that is still in effect and that your strike is both necessary and illegal? Paul Arcand's interview with union leader Chatal Racette was an exercise in belligerent, adolescent avoidance of fact and misdirection that essentially came close to shaving a few points off the listeners' IQs. She was completely unable to explain the fundamental question of *why* they were striking, and spent the interview complaining that the mayor and media were just mean stupidheads.
Though I don't always agree with M. Coderre, when it comes to the blue collar workers, I'm glad we have a man instead of a ghost in office.
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Monday, May 5, 2014
"Please proceed"
So the Parti Québécois is very, very busy right now trying to analyze what the hell went so wrong with their last election. It's part entertaining, part pathetic.
And now they're mud-slinging and ripping their shirts open. They're blaming poor-quality polls, and being forced to go off-message by other parties, and, especially, they are in agony over their own raison d'être - an independent Quebec. Here are my favorite ideas coming out of the post-partum analysis by party.
And so I sit at home reading about the PQ's plans to go back to their roots and re-take possession of the sovereignty issue - you know, the issue that over 60% of the population not only rejects but is so damn tired of having over their heads like a sword of Damocles that they would rather vote in a corrupt government for a four-year term over a separatist one? The same issue that is losing ground with an increasingly open and worldly population, especially the young 'uns? The issue that automatically shuts people down and turns them off at the very mention of it? That issue?
Please, proceed.
And now they're mud-slinging and ripping their shirts open. They're blaming poor-quality polls, and being forced to go off-message by other parties, and, especially, they are in agony over their own raison d'être - an independent Quebec. Here are my favorite ideas coming out of the post-partum analysis by party.
- "We lost because of PKP and his fist in the air". Well, yes. Yes, you did - in part. But... wait a minute. Isn't Article 1 of your party's charter to become an independent state? So, what you're saying is that you lost because the population was reminded of what you really stand for? Ouch.
- "We lost because we didn't talk enough about separation." So you lost because the population was reminded that your entire reason for being is to eventually hold a referendum to become independent - but you also lost because you didn't talk about this issue enough? My brain is starting to hurt...
- "The Liberals used the Referendum Scarecrow to 'scare' people." So are you saying that you don't want a referendum, and that the Libs are scaring people over something that will never happen? Or are you saying that a referendum is, in fact, totally within your intentions, but that the Liberals are somehow cheating when they remind everyone that a referendum is your ultimate goal? Because here's the thing: when you, yourselves, claim that any mention of a referendum is 'frightening' for voters, you are admitting that your reason for being is something to be nervous about.
- "Marois put herself on the poster and didn't give the local candidates enough publicity". So here's a newsflash: if you're in an electoral district that has a recognizable candidate like the party leader or someone well-known like, say, Agnes Maltais or Gaetan Barrette, then you recognize the name and face on the local poster. But at the end of the day, whether or not you actually know the person on the poster doesn't count for squat because a large number of people aren't really voting for a candidate: most of us are voting against the thing we don't want. If you represent a separatist party, I ain't voting for you. Period. It's not about the platform, not about the local issues, not about whether or not I like the face on the poster or not. Do you think another referendum is a good idea? Do you really think that this issue is worth the m/billions of dollars it will take to achieve and that the money is not better spent on hospitals, schools and and pensions? I'd rather vote for a crook who will give his buddy a contract to build a new hospital, thank you very much.
- "Quebecers are cowards, unable to stand up and put on their pants." and/or "We lack vision as a nation". Oh, yes, calling me a coward for standing up and saying no to something I do not want and that I know will most likely mortgage my child's future in the land of his birth will definitely convince to to adopt your point-of-view. Calling me a cowardly unintelligent non-real-Quebecer will surely get my vote. Riiiiiight.
- "We tried good governance and it didn't get us re-elected, so we should drop the idea of building a good government and place our focus/energy/message back on the sovereignty issue." So you tried good governance and... Wait - you actually think you tried good governance?? In the 18 moths you were in power you presented us with a governmental gong show with your divisive Charter for which you lied unabashedly about legal opinions, you tried to introduce nationalistic history classes for CEGEP students and toyed with the idea of revoking the right to attend English-language institutions at the collegiate level. You reneged on balancing the budget deficit and ignored your own law on holding elections on fixed dates. You called your own damn election at the time of your choosing instead of being toppled from your position as a minority government and got your asses handed to you by a party which remains on TV every day at the never-ending public inquiry on corruption. You were like a government of circus clowns - and that is an insult to circus clowns, quite frankly. If that was your attempt at "good government" I can't wait to see what you look/sound like when you drop "good governance" from your priorities.
- "Our polls were wrong." ORLY? You're that bad at gaging public opinion? You're that bad at picking your professional services?
And so I sit at home reading about the PQ's plans to go back to their roots and re-take possession of the sovereignty issue - you know, the issue that over 60% of the population not only rejects but is so damn tired of having over their heads like a sword of Damocles that they would rather vote in a corrupt government for a four-year term over a separatist one? The same issue that is losing ground with an increasingly open and worldly population, especially the young 'uns? The issue that automatically shuts people down and turns them off at the very mention of it? That issue?
Please, proceed.
Mirabel - Buh-bye and good riddance!
They're finally going to tear down the Mirabel Airport passenger terminal.
The terminal is built in the middle of farm-land and has sat unused for 10 years. There's asbestos in the walls, the sprinkler system must be replaced and the roof is finished. In its current state, it would be impossible to use it as a passenger terminal, and all efforts to rehabilitate the facility into something else (indoor outlet mall, office space, an entertainment complex, etc) have failed. The airport authority spends at least $3 million a year just to heat it and keep the vandals and looters away.
It needs to go.
But there are plenty of otherwise intelligent people are shocked - SHOCKED I tell you - by the idea of demolishing this unused and useless drain of money. And I just don't understand their resistance. I can sympathize with their disappointment, certainly, but not with their insistence to keep it standing.
Since the issue is all over the news, I have learned more of the history behind this fiasco. Despite being old enough to have traveled through the airport, its inauguration in 1975 makes it so that I have no living memory of the events that saw this airport come to life. Other than knowing it was in a stupid location and that it was hard to get to, the only other thing I knew about it was that many, many families and farmers were expropriated from their lands and homes in order to build the airport.
And so now I learn more about the incredible hubris and short-sighted nature of the entire project, where Montreal would be welcoming 50 million passengers by 2000 (we welcomed about 12 million in 2013) and at least 4 more terminals, three more landing strips and a train running between Mirabel and Montreal would be added. The land was taken from the locals and only 1 terminal and 1 strip were built. The terminal building was described as an example of the modern architecture Quebec was capable of building. Oh, glorious day.
Except it wasn't. The air industry adopted Toronto as a hub, and times, they were a-changin. Without a good way to get people to and from Montreal efficiently, eventually all air traffic was moved back to Dorval and Mirabel was cooked. And then the terminal stayed unused for ten years while we paid millions and millions every year just to leave it standing.
And now that somebody has finally put their grown-up pants on and decided that this ridiculous, unjustified spending of money had to stop, we have mayors and residents getting their dreamy underpants in a bunch. Oh, noes, we can't tear it down!! Because, you know, that would be admitting defeat and what about the people who were expropriated?? There was a LTE in La Presse over the weekend that even lamented that the tearing down of this money pit meant that we we no longer allowed to dream, or some other philosophical nonsense that didn't deserve to be printed. Even Montreal's new uber-Mayor says that he will ask for a injunction to keep the demo from happening and to buy time in order to 'rehabilitate' the building.
Do I feel for the people who lost their homes for this out-of-all-proportion pipe dream? Of course I do. But nobody has explained how the wrong of keeping the building standing 'rights' the wrong of those useless expropriations. How, exactly, would this monument to governmental error and misjudgement soothe the hurt caused by the expropriations? I would think that nothing could right that wrong. And if it were me, I would curse the presence of that reminder everyday that it remained standing.
How can we even afford to leave it up as a silent, empty museum? We can't. Not in a province that has a huge deficit and is wondering how they will provide its citizens with adequate health care and pay their retirement pensions.
And call me unsophisticated, but a squat rectangle covered in curtain-wall glass in the middle of a field is not the type of architecture that I feel needs to be preserved through a $3 million maintenance bill. This ain't Mount Rushmore or even The Big Owe. It's a building nobody goes to and nobody ever sees. I would bet a dollar that if you showed a picture of the terminal to most people on the street that they would not be able to identify it.
Those who are opposed to the demolition accuse the pro-demo people of lacking vision. Hey... wasn't Mirabel built because people had a little too much "vision" in the first place? Maybe it's time we had a little less vision and more open-eyed reality.
Is this airport and its terminal a giant flop? A mistake? You betcha. But a mature and intelligent society does not fear its mistakes. It admits them, learns from them, and moves on. It does not keep making a yearly $3 million mistake to bury its head in the sand over the initial error.
The terminal is built in the middle of farm-land and has sat unused for 10 years. There's asbestos in the walls, the sprinkler system must be replaced and the roof is finished. In its current state, it would be impossible to use it as a passenger terminal, and all efforts to rehabilitate the facility into something else (indoor outlet mall, office space, an entertainment complex, etc) have failed. The airport authority spends at least $3 million a year just to heat it and keep the vandals and looters away.
It needs to go.
But there are plenty of otherwise intelligent people are shocked - SHOCKED I tell you - by the idea of demolishing this unused and useless drain of money. And I just don't understand their resistance. I can sympathize with their disappointment, certainly, but not with their insistence to keep it standing.
Since the issue is all over the news, I have learned more of the history behind this fiasco. Despite being old enough to have traveled through the airport, its inauguration in 1975 makes it so that I have no living memory of the events that saw this airport come to life. Other than knowing it was in a stupid location and that it was hard to get to, the only other thing I knew about it was that many, many families and farmers were expropriated from their lands and homes in order to build the airport.
And so now I learn more about the incredible hubris and short-sighted nature of the entire project, where Montreal would be welcoming 50 million passengers by 2000 (we welcomed about 12 million in 2013) and at least 4 more terminals, three more landing strips and a train running between Mirabel and Montreal would be added. The land was taken from the locals and only 1 terminal and 1 strip were built. The terminal building was described as an example of the modern architecture Quebec was capable of building. Oh, glorious day.
Except it wasn't. The air industry adopted Toronto as a hub, and times, they were a-changin. Without a good way to get people to and from Montreal efficiently, eventually all air traffic was moved back to Dorval and Mirabel was cooked. And then the terminal stayed unused for ten years while we paid millions and millions every year just to leave it standing.
And now that somebody has finally put their grown-up pants on and decided that this ridiculous, unjustified spending of money had to stop, we have mayors and residents getting their dreamy underpants in a bunch. Oh, noes, we can't tear it down!! Because, you know, that would be admitting defeat and what about the people who were expropriated?? There was a LTE in La Presse over the weekend that even lamented that the tearing down of this money pit meant that we we no longer allowed to dream, or some other philosophical nonsense that didn't deserve to be printed. Even Montreal's new uber-Mayor says that he will ask for a injunction to keep the demo from happening and to buy time in order to 'rehabilitate' the building.
Do I feel for the people who lost their homes for this out-of-all-proportion pipe dream? Of course I do. But nobody has explained how the wrong of keeping the building standing 'rights' the wrong of those useless expropriations. How, exactly, would this monument to governmental error and misjudgement soothe the hurt caused by the expropriations? I would think that nothing could right that wrong. And if it were me, I would curse the presence of that reminder everyday that it remained standing.
How can we even afford to leave it up as a silent, empty museum? We can't. Not in a province that has a huge deficit and is wondering how they will provide its citizens with adequate health care and pay their retirement pensions.
And call me unsophisticated, but a squat rectangle covered in curtain-wall glass in the middle of a field is not the type of architecture that I feel needs to be preserved through a $3 million maintenance bill. This ain't Mount Rushmore or even The Big Owe. It's a building nobody goes to and nobody ever sees. I would bet a dollar that if you showed a picture of the terminal to most people on the street that they would not be able to identify it.
Those who are opposed to the demolition accuse the pro-demo people of lacking vision. Hey... wasn't Mirabel built because people had a little too much "vision" in the first place? Maybe it's time we had a little less vision and more open-eyed reality.
Is this airport and its terminal a giant flop? A mistake? You betcha. But a mature and intelligent society does not fear its mistakes. It admits them, learns from them, and moves on. It does not keep making a yearly $3 million mistake to bury its head in the sand over the initial error.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Yeah, but, you LET them
So apparently Twitter is about to turn all wallstreet on us and this means that they will be the new insidious threat to our online privacy, because they have this enhanced tracking power built into their platform that will allow really, really targeted ads to be sent to people across their multiple devices. Or so sez Mother Jones. This has different people in a flutter because it will be even worse than what facebook or google does.
I don't worry a lot about this. I mean, I stay informed and I regularly go into my FB settings to make sure as many "private" tick boxes are ticked. But I'm not exactly cowering in fear. Why?
Because judging from the hilarious offers and ads that pop up on FB and during my internet browsing, the Internets have no clue at all as to what I want and what I might buy.
Examples: while reading an atheist blog, I get ads offering me to meet Christian singles. I read American liberal political blogs, and ads for donating to the Republican party appear in the banner. The BBC News website streams commercials for Jaguar Canada to me (not in the market for a car, let alone a Jaguar). I could list more, but you get the big picture. Not only are the ads not within my sphere of interests, but they are often at the polar opposite of my tastes and leanings and with the content of the website I am visiting.
This is not the result of me making extraordinary efforts to hide from data collectors. My cookies are enabled and I have very basic firewall and anti-virus thingies on my 'puter. I shop online occasionally.
But I think I stay off of the radars and confound the ad-generators mostly because I used this seemingly antiquated and apparently little known approach to using the Internet. It's called "discretion" (she says as she posts a very public blog...). No, I'm not trying to be ironic.
I am relatively discreet when it comes to my internet use, especially with the social network platforms. Here's what I don't do that I think has helped me feel that my privacy is a little more private than other internet users:
1) No third-party app access to my FB account. I play Bejeweled Blitz and Candy Crush and whatnot. I do not use Game Center nor do I allow these games to access my FB profile. What I play and what my score was last night is nobody else's business (and I don't fucking give a flying fuck about your score or your fake farm animal either). But more importantly, I don't think my FB account and FB 'friends' are Game Center's, Apple's or any game-maker's business. So, no, I won't use the Birthday App on FB either, no matter how many times I am invited to do so.
2) No 'Liking' of companies on FB nor any mention of them on Twitter. Ever. I really do not like a capitalist profit-seeker enough to give that entity access to my information or 'friends'. The less they know about me, the better. (One exception: I 'liked' Oreo's page when they issued the rainbow Oreo picture in support of equal rights.)
3) I have accounts on FB, Twitter and Pinterest but use them discreetly. I don't link those accounts together so that these guys can gang up on me and I am mostly a lurker on these platforms. I avoid oversharing and I do not allow my smart phone to automatically announce to the world that I'm at this mall or that airport. I do not allow my phone to geotag my pictures. I don't post pictures of the food I'm having at the restaurant. I don't post pictures during my vacation as an advertisement for burglars to come break into my house. See, I just don't think any of those things are :
a) crucial for me to share nor crucial for anyone to know
2) anyone's business
iii) especially a third-party capitalist's business
4) I don't leave my email address to retailers at the cash when they ask me for it. I do not accept the 3 thousand credit card offers that the cashiers or junkmailers offer me. I have very few fidelity cards and will most likely get rid of some that I do have because I never use the points and all I get out of the deal is more spam in my inbox.
5) I log out of Twitter and FB on my smartphone and tablet when I am out and about and rarely (if ever) use their Apps. I use both on my browser and make sure to log out when I'm done.
And so I don't really worry all too much about being tracked or targeted by retailers and social networks who want to sell my info to said retailers because without being obsessive about it, I limit access to those types of people when it comes to me and my accounts.
Am I totally safe and anonymous and hack-proof? Not by a long shot. But I think my refusal to blindly link accounts and platforms together and to announce every detail about myself online has already proven to me that the trackers have a hard time tracking me. Because, c'mon, christian singles for a married atheist on an atheist blog? You can't get more off-base than that!
So if you find that the banners and pop-ups and FB ads are eerily accurate and pertinent to your habits and preferences, it's only because you let them find out all that stuff about you, in the end.
I don't worry a lot about this. I mean, I stay informed and I regularly go into my FB settings to make sure as many "private" tick boxes are ticked. But I'm not exactly cowering in fear. Why?
Because judging from the hilarious offers and ads that pop up on FB and during my internet browsing, the Internets have no clue at all as to what I want and what I might buy.
Examples: while reading an atheist blog, I get ads offering me to meet Christian singles. I read American liberal political blogs, and ads for donating to the Republican party appear in the banner. The BBC News website streams commercials for Jaguar Canada to me (not in the market for a car, let alone a Jaguar). I could list more, but you get the big picture. Not only are the ads not within my sphere of interests, but they are often at the polar opposite of my tastes and leanings and with the content of the website I am visiting.
This is not the result of me making extraordinary efforts to hide from data collectors. My cookies are enabled and I have very basic firewall and anti-virus thingies on my 'puter. I shop online occasionally.
But I think I stay off of the radars and confound the ad-generators mostly because I used this seemingly antiquated and apparently little known approach to using the Internet. It's called "discretion" (she says as she posts a very public blog...). No, I'm not trying to be ironic.
I am relatively discreet when it comes to my internet use, especially with the social network platforms. Here's what I don't do that I think has helped me feel that my privacy is a little more private than other internet users:
1) No third-party app access to my FB account. I play Bejeweled Blitz and Candy Crush and whatnot. I do not use Game Center nor do I allow these games to access my FB profile. What I play and what my score was last night is nobody else's business (and I don't fucking give a flying fuck about your score or your fake farm animal either). But more importantly, I don't think my FB account and FB 'friends' are Game Center's, Apple's or any game-maker's business. So, no, I won't use the Birthday App on FB either, no matter how many times I am invited to do so.
2) No 'Liking' of companies on FB nor any mention of them on Twitter. Ever. I really do not like a capitalist profit-seeker enough to give that entity access to my information or 'friends'. The less they know about me, the better. (One exception: I 'liked' Oreo's page when they issued the rainbow Oreo picture in support of equal rights.)
3) I have accounts on FB, Twitter and Pinterest but use them discreetly. I don't link those accounts together so that these guys can gang up on me and I am mostly a lurker on these platforms. I avoid oversharing and I do not allow my smart phone to automatically announce to the world that I'm at this mall or that airport. I do not allow my phone to geotag my pictures. I don't post pictures of the food I'm having at the restaurant. I don't post pictures during my vacation as an advertisement for burglars to come break into my house. See, I just don't think any of those things are :
a) crucial for me to share nor crucial for anyone to know
2) anyone's business
iii) especially a third-party capitalist's business
4) I don't leave my email address to retailers at the cash when they ask me for it. I do not accept the 3 thousand credit card offers that the cashiers or junkmailers offer me. I have very few fidelity cards and will most likely get rid of some that I do have because I never use the points and all I get out of the deal is more spam in my inbox.
5) I log out of Twitter and FB on my smartphone and tablet when I am out and about and rarely (if ever) use their Apps. I use both on my browser and make sure to log out when I'm done.
And so I don't really worry all too much about being tracked or targeted by retailers and social networks who want to sell my info to said retailers because without being obsessive about it, I limit access to those types of people when it comes to me and my accounts.
Am I totally safe and anonymous and hack-proof? Not by a long shot. But I think my refusal to blindly link accounts and platforms together and to announce every detail about myself online has already proven to me that the trackers have a hard time tracking me. Because, c'mon, christian singles for a married atheist on an atheist blog? You can't get more off-base than that!
So if you find that the banners and pop-ups and FB ads are eerily accurate and pertinent to your habits and preferences, it's only because you let them find out all that stuff about you, in the end.
Monday, September 23, 2013
The Charter
I've done a fair amount of reading about this stupid Charter o' Values that the Marois government is using as a wedge issue to drive the next election (reading this tripe is how I fall asleep at night) and there's a thought that keeps occurring to me that I haven't really seen expressed, which can be summarized as follows:
Freedom.
Allow me to expand on the point.
One current of thought flowing through this whole debate comes from some women and their supporters who have emigrated to Canada from places like Tunisia and Algeria. I have nothing but humble respect for all immigrant people who uproot themselves and start all over again in a foreign country; however some of these particular women have been in the media expressing their support for the ban on head scarves for government workers because (they say) the head scarf was used in their countries of origin as a tool and symbol of domination and the subjugation of women by (radical Muslim) men.
Do I agree that these women should never have been forced to wear a scarf? Abso-fucking-lutely.
Because Freedom.
And now, these women and many others want to speak for women's rights/equality by... telling other women what they shouldn't wear. Because... not Freedom???
Are there Muslim men out there who force their wives and daughters to wear the scarf (and worse) against their will? Abso-fucking-lutely.
But that doesn't give the right to any other woman, government or organization to step into the role of the abusive Muslim man and replace his edict with another. It certainly doesn't give anybody the right to tell a woman who chose to wear the damn thing (of whom there are many) to take it off, either. A feminist who tells that woman to take off her scarf is as bad as any Muslim who tells her to put it on.
Because Freedom dictates that in this country, those women have the right to walk away from their asshole husbands and wear whatever the fuck they want. They have the right to wear a scarf in fucking peace and not have a desperate gang of seperatists ostracize them. Because Freedom is why they came here: to live their own personal pursuits of happyness in peace, which they felt they could not do in the countries they fled. The homes they left behind. The Freedom was worth it. Which is why they are mostly all HELLNO about the Charter. And why, as an atheist who lives by the idea of the separation of church and state, I am against this bogus charter thing as well.
And why if you truly left a dictatorship in the name of freedom, you cannot possibly be in favor of creating oppression here. If freedom means both the neo-nazi and the humanist have the right to speak, it must also mean that I can wear a paisley snot-rag on my head while the Muslim woman wears her scarf.
And so while I'm at it, let me offer the same answer to the nitwits who argue that if I were to go to a 'Muslim country' I would have to adopt their laws/customs and put a piece of scarf on my head, and so this gives Quebecers the "right" to force Muslim women to "conform" to "our values" and remove it once they hit Quebec soil.
Once again : because Freedom, you dumbasses! Those countries aren't free. This one is. Get it? We don't do that here and that what makes us so awesome.
And if going to those countries and being forced to wear a headscarf is so offensive to you, why would you use the same tactic that offends you so much in others???
Freedom.
Allow me to expand on the point.
One current of thought flowing through this whole debate comes from some women and their supporters who have emigrated to Canada from places like Tunisia and Algeria. I have nothing but humble respect for all immigrant people who uproot themselves and start all over again in a foreign country; however some of these particular women have been in the media expressing their support for the ban on head scarves for government workers because (they say) the head scarf was used in their countries of origin as a tool and symbol of domination and the subjugation of women by (radical Muslim) men.
Do I agree that these women should never have been forced to wear a scarf? Abso-fucking-lutely.
Because Freedom.
And now, these women and many others want to speak for women's rights/equality by... telling other women what they shouldn't wear. Because... not Freedom???
Are there Muslim men out there who force their wives and daughters to wear the scarf (and worse) against their will? Abso-fucking-lutely.
But that doesn't give the right to any other woman, government or organization to step into the role of the abusive Muslim man and replace his edict with another. It certainly doesn't give anybody the right to tell a woman who chose to wear the damn thing (of whom there are many) to take it off, either. A feminist who tells that woman to take off her scarf is as bad as any Muslim who tells her to put it on.
Because Freedom dictates that in this country, those women have the right to walk away from their asshole husbands and wear whatever the fuck they want. They have the right to wear a scarf in fucking peace and not have a desperate gang of seperatists ostracize them. Because Freedom is why they came here: to live their own personal pursuits of happyness in peace, which they felt they could not do in the countries they fled. The homes they left behind. The Freedom was worth it. Which is why they are mostly all HELLNO about the Charter. And why, as an atheist who lives by the idea of the separation of church and state, I am against this bogus charter thing as well.
And why if you truly left a dictatorship in the name of freedom, you cannot possibly be in favor of creating oppression here. If freedom means both the neo-nazi and the humanist have the right to speak, it must also mean that I can wear a paisley snot-rag on my head while the Muslim woman wears her scarf.
And so while I'm at it, let me offer the same answer to the nitwits who argue that if I were to go to a 'Muslim country' I would have to adopt their laws/customs and put a piece of scarf on my head, and so this gives Quebecers the "right" to force Muslim women to "conform" to "our values" and remove it once they hit Quebec soil.
Once again : because Freedom, you dumbasses! Those countries aren't free. This one is. Get it? We don't do that here and that what makes us so awesome.
And if going to those countries and being forced to wear a headscarf is so offensive to you, why would you use the same tactic that offends you so much in others???
"Do you work?"
I follow a few irreverent motherbloggers from Chicago who, I shit you not, swear more than I do. They are Baby Sideburns and People I Want to Punch in the Throat, as well I Just Want to Pee Alone.
Baby Sideburns has a blog up this morning that re-hashes the notion of what a stay-at-home mom would be paid, should she perform her duties with pay. You can read it here.
Now, I do not think that I should be paid to be at home with my child. I do think we should get some hella good tax breaks and whatnot, but not necessary a paycheck. There's a point I do agree with, and it is the following:
"Do you work?" I know, I know, a common complaint, I'm not the first and I'm not the last, but this is a standard question asked by just about everyone. It comes right after the, "So, what do you do?" standard new-meeting-interview question. The "do you work?" riposte always comes right after the statement, "I help my husband with his home-based business and am at home with my kid, and I am heavily involved as an official in an amateur sport." This answer just isn't enough for people; they just need more than that because society has taught them that the SAHM (stay at home mom) is not enough, not a contributor, not a moverandashaker - they aren't satisfied with this image and therefore neither should I. There's an soupçon of 'is that all?' that spreads across their faces and tones that inevitably comes with the added spices of total incomprehension, some disgust, and quite frankly, total, utter disinterest. The sign I see stretched across their foreheads reads BORING and NOTWORTHMYTIME. The standard follow-up 'do you work' is often presented more as a second chance to redeem myself, as though one could not possibly just stay at home with a child and be happy and/or interesting. The more insensitive and brash worker drones actually ask the question with a different phrasing : they say, "But... you work, right?". Of course, I don't really encourage further conversation with the brainwashed automatons by issuing my standard answer, to whit: "No, the TV watches my kid while the cabana boy serves me margaritas by the pool all day long." But quite frankly, most of these people don't hear the answer because their chins are already turning to the next person, someone who is actually interesting and not a waste of time to talk to.
I understand this attitude from some men. I can also understand this to a certain extent coming from women who don't have children. Until some people actually work with children or have some of their own, they imagine being at home with a child being this bliss-filled life of book clubs, pleasurable shopping and scrap-booking - or whatever other shit I have no time for and no interest in - because caring for kids is easy : you feed 'em, you supply them toys and DVDs and you're set. No alarm clocks, no commute, no traffic, no boss... You read your book-club novel on a park bench while your child plays blissfully on the playground. (Disclaimer : as a former educator, I always referred to SAHMs as women who do not work outside the home.)
I don't forgive women who treat me this way when they have children. Because these women should know better, they should know that there's no peaceful sitting on park benches with a pre-schooler when nobody else is at the park on a weekday and even if there were, he needs you to intervene in a very hands-on manner because he doesn't want to share the slide with anyone and screams at them to get off, and needs you to tell him that sand is not for throwing, and needs you to check his pants 40 times in an hour because you're in the middle of potty-traning and there is no bathroom at the playground (which he would refuse to use anyway)... See, I get that the childless professsional doesn't get that, but not other mothers.
Other mothers should know better. Other mothers should know that while you are in the presence and responsible for a baby, toddler or preschooler, that child is the boss. Not in the sense that the child orders you around and whatnot (not in my house anyway), but in the sense that your entire schedule, your entire day, revolves around this persons needs. If your Little Person (LP) is going on his next snack or meal, all other plans go out the window and you have to stop and eat. Period. If the LP needs a nap, you are not dashing to the drug store that afternoon. If your LP needs a nap and refuses to do so, you are SoL on pretty much EVERYTHING you needed to do that day, because the day is now devoted to taking care of a crabby, loud, floppy, teary, unmotivated and unreasonable shit-and-spit machine that does stuff like insist they cling onto you on the couch to watch Cars for the three thousandth time, but insists on keeping his hand on your face because he's decided that you aren't allowed to watch the movie and you must look at the wall. Nor are you allowed to speak, comment, sneeze or go put a load of clothes into the machine. So you sit there, getting nothing done except get more tears and snot on your shirt because you inadvertently glanced at the TV and set off the LP all over again...
Oh, you could choose not to do any of these things and insist on making your LP conform to your schedule, but you quickly learn that only person you punish by doing this is yourself. And you turn yourself into one of those annoying, whiny parents who complain that you have whiny, annoying children that you 'can't take anywhere'. See, I can take my child anywhere, as long as I've otherwise respected his needs and schedule... But I digress...
Yeah, other mothers should know better. They should know better through the sigh of relief they let out once the door of the daycare closes behind them in the morning and through the brace-for-impact breath of air they take before stepping inside to pick them up at night. They should know that when they get a report of a "bad day" and a bag full of vomity clothes that had they been at home, THEY would have dealt with the vomit puddle, the tears, the change of clothes, the laundry - everything from start to finish, which is what a SAHM does. No respite. No union breaks. No window-shopping on your lunch hour and picking up a new shirt for that thing you're invited to on the weekend. No stopping at the drug store (alone and unfettered) on your way to or from the daycare. No sitting at your desk with a coffee while you quietly check your email. No lunch at that new Thai place around the corner. No adult conversations with other parents, trading tips or recipes. No special donut day for somebody's birthday. While you are doing all of that, I am absolutely not having a grand ol' time with Manuel the Cabana Boy. And you know it.
Now, I understand that you don't want to hear the minute details of how I got my LP to sit on a potty and consistently produce pee all last week. I know better, I won't do that to you. I also understand that some people avoid the subject of my being at home with my LP because they would love to be able to it too, and can't, and therefore avoid the subject.
And I already listed the wonderful 'no' list in my life (no commute, no traffic, no worrying about being late) and so I don't want to harp on comparing my daily life to that of a work-outside-the-home mom (I do refuse to use the term 'working mom' however). This post is all about how people lack respect, and I won't make my point by implying I don't respect the WOtH moms - I respect them so much that I don't know how they do it.
The point here is that I don't get the same respect back. And all this is illustrated by a single exchange I had a few weeks ago.
In the course of my volunteer work, I've been on a federation committee for a few years - and often felt like a committee of 1 person until this year, when they asked a second official to be part of the committee as well. Yay! Some qualified help! Especially appreciated for the yearly training seminar that I have been planning, organizing, powerpointing for and presented alone almost every year.
Almost a month before the seminar, I contact this new committee member to see if she can do a part of the training. She says she'll think about it and concoct an activity.
Two weeks out, I still don't have any details or anything resembling a plan.
One week before, I prompt again and get told that it will be a short, 15-minute activity. So I pick up the slack, plan another activity to complete the training and the schedule.
I wait until Tuesday to hand in and distribute the final schedule. I work until late at night both Tuesday and Wednesday to complete everything (you remember how it's impossible to get something like that done while the LP is awake, right)? So it's all about midnight powerpoint sessions (after I edit that letter hubby needs to send first thing tomorrow, you know, the kind of stuff that keeps money in the account and food on the table...)
Thursday afternoon, 24 hours before the seminar starts, I get somewhat giddy email saying that the 15-minute activity will now be more like 45, because the person really gets carried away once she gets started, haha, I hope that's ok!
Well, no it's not OK, because you basically are unreliable and wasted my precious (sleep) time, and have now messed up my fucking plan and schedule. But all this is not the completely insulting and annoying part.
The insulting part is when I call another mom/official to kvetch about the total lack of respect for the seminar, my time and my efforts, this other WOtH mom tells me the following:
"I know it's annoying, but cut her some slack and accommodate her like you always end up doing with everyone, because you rock. And after all, she has a job."
And that, folks, sums up my entire point. It's okay if another mom shits all over my time and effort because she has a "job". I have to respect her, but in return, I basically get dismissed.
Do I work? Yeah, I fucking work and am on-duty 24 hours a day, 7 days a week (compounded by the hubby's home-based consulting business - and if you think that means he's home and therefore helping me with the kid, well... I may have another blog post for you real soon...).
I don't want to be paid for any of this.
But a little goddam respect for my fucking time and efforts would certainly be appreciated.
Baby Sideburns has a blog up this morning that re-hashes the notion of what a stay-at-home mom would be paid, should she perform her duties with pay. You can read it here.
Now, I do not think that I should be paid to be at home with my child. I do think we should get some hella good tax breaks and whatnot, but not necessary a paycheck. There's a point I do agree with, and it is the following:
"Do you work?" I know, I know, a common complaint, I'm not the first and I'm not the last, but this is a standard question asked by just about everyone. It comes right after the, "So, what do you do?" standard new-meeting-interview question. The "do you work?" riposte always comes right after the statement, "I help my husband with his home-based business and am at home with my kid, and I am heavily involved as an official in an amateur sport." This answer just isn't enough for people; they just need more than that because society has taught them that the SAHM (stay at home mom) is not enough, not a contributor, not a moverandashaker - they aren't satisfied with this image and therefore neither should I. There's an soupçon of 'is that all?' that spreads across their faces and tones that inevitably comes with the added spices of total incomprehension, some disgust, and quite frankly, total, utter disinterest. The sign I see stretched across their foreheads reads BORING and NOTWORTHMYTIME. The standard follow-up 'do you work' is often presented more as a second chance to redeem myself, as though one could not possibly just stay at home with a child and be happy and/or interesting. The more insensitive and brash worker drones actually ask the question with a different phrasing : they say, "But... you work, right?". Of course, I don't really encourage further conversation with the brainwashed automatons by issuing my standard answer, to whit: "No, the TV watches my kid while the cabana boy serves me margaritas by the pool all day long." But quite frankly, most of these people don't hear the answer because their chins are already turning to the next person, someone who is actually interesting and not a waste of time to talk to.
I understand this attitude from some men. I can also understand this to a certain extent coming from women who don't have children. Until some people actually work with children or have some of their own, they imagine being at home with a child being this bliss-filled life of book clubs, pleasurable shopping and scrap-booking - or whatever other shit I have no time for and no interest in - because caring for kids is easy : you feed 'em, you supply them toys and DVDs and you're set. No alarm clocks, no commute, no traffic, no boss... You read your book-club novel on a park bench while your child plays blissfully on the playground. (Disclaimer : as a former educator, I always referred to SAHMs as women who do not work outside the home.)
I don't forgive women who treat me this way when they have children. Because these women should know better, they should know that there's no peaceful sitting on park benches with a pre-schooler when nobody else is at the park on a weekday and even if there were, he needs you to intervene in a very hands-on manner because he doesn't want to share the slide with anyone and screams at them to get off, and needs you to tell him that sand is not for throwing, and needs you to check his pants 40 times in an hour because you're in the middle of potty-traning and there is no bathroom at the playground (which he would refuse to use anyway)... See, I get that the childless professsional doesn't get that, but not other mothers.
Other mothers should know better. Other mothers should know that while you are in the presence and responsible for a baby, toddler or preschooler, that child is the boss. Not in the sense that the child orders you around and whatnot (not in my house anyway), but in the sense that your entire schedule, your entire day, revolves around this persons needs. If your Little Person (LP) is going on his next snack or meal, all other plans go out the window and you have to stop and eat. Period. If the LP needs a nap, you are not dashing to the drug store that afternoon. If your LP needs a nap and refuses to do so, you are SoL on pretty much EVERYTHING you needed to do that day, because the day is now devoted to taking care of a crabby, loud, floppy, teary, unmotivated and unreasonable shit-and-spit machine that does stuff like insist they cling onto you on the couch to watch Cars for the three thousandth time, but insists on keeping his hand on your face because he's decided that you aren't allowed to watch the movie and you must look at the wall. Nor are you allowed to speak, comment, sneeze or go put a load of clothes into the machine. So you sit there, getting nothing done except get more tears and snot on your shirt because you inadvertently glanced at the TV and set off the LP all over again...
Oh, you could choose not to do any of these things and insist on making your LP conform to your schedule, but you quickly learn that only person you punish by doing this is yourself. And you turn yourself into one of those annoying, whiny parents who complain that you have whiny, annoying children that you 'can't take anywhere'. See, I can take my child anywhere, as long as I've otherwise respected his needs and schedule... But I digress...
Yeah, other mothers should know better. They should know better through the sigh of relief they let out once the door of the daycare closes behind them in the morning and through the brace-for-impact breath of air they take before stepping inside to pick them up at night. They should know that when they get a report of a "bad day" and a bag full of vomity clothes that had they been at home, THEY would have dealt with the vomit puddle, the tears, the change of clothes, the laundry - everything from start to finish, which is what a SAHM does. No respite. No union breaks. No window-shopping on your lunch hour and picking up a new shirt for that thing you're invited to on the weekend. No stopping at the drug store (alone and unfettered) on your way to or from the daycare. No sitting at your desk with a coffee while you quietly check your email. No lunch at that new Thai place around the corner. No adult conversations with other parents, trading tips or recipes. No special donut day for somebody's birthday. While you are doing all of that, I am absolutely not having a grand ol' time with Manuel the Cabana Boy. And you know it.
Now, I understand that you don't want to hear the minute details of how I got my LP to sit on a potty and consistently produce pee all last week. I know better, I won't do that to you. I also understand that some people avoid the subject of my being at home with my LP because they would love to be able to it too, and can't, and therefore avoid the subject.
And I already listed the wonderful 'no' list in my life (no commute, no traffic, no worrying about being late) and so I don't want to harp on comparing my daily life to that of a work-outside-the-home mom (I do refuse to use the term 'working mom' however). This post is all about how people lack respect, and I won't make my point by implying I don't respect the WOtH moms - I respect them so much that I don't know how they do it.
The point here is that I don't get the same respect back. And all this is illustrated by a single exchange I had a few weeks ago.
In the course of my volunteer work, I've been on a federation committee for a few years - and often felt like a committee of 1 person until this year, when they asked a second official to be part of the committee as well. Yay! Some qualified help! Especially appreciated for the yearly training seminar that I have been planning, organizing, powerpointing for and presented alone almost every year.
Almost a month before the seminar, I contact this new committee member to see if she can do a part of the training. She says she'll think about it and concoct an activity.
Two weeks out, I still don't have any details or anything resembling a plan.
One week before, I prompt again and get told that it will be a short, 15-minute activity. So I pick up the slack, plan another activity to complete the training and the schedule.
I wait until Tuesday to hand in and distribute the final schedule. I work until late at night both Tuesday and Wednesday to complete everything (you remember how it's impossible to get something like that done while the LP is awake, right)? So it's all about midnight powerpoint sessions (after I edit that letter hubby needs to send first thing tomorrow, you know, the kind of stuff that keeps money in the account and food on the table...)
Thursday afternoon, 24 hours before the seminar starts, I get somewhat giddy email saying that the 15-minute activity will now be more like 45, because the person really gets carried away once she gets started, haha, I hope that's ok!
Well, no it's not OK, because you basically are unreliable and wasted my precious (sleep) time, and have now messed up my fucking plan and schedule. But all this is not the completely insulting and annoying part.
The insulting part is when I call another mom/official to kvetch about the total lack of respect for the seminar, my time and my efforts, this other WOtH mom tells me the following:
"I know it's annoying, but cut her some slack and accommodate her like you always end up doing with everyone, because you rock. And after all, she has a job."
And that, folks, sums up my entire point. It's okay if another mom shits all over my time and effort because she has a "job". I have to respect her, but in return, I basically get dismissed.
Do I work? Yeah, I fucking work and am on-duty 24 hours a day, 7 days a week (compounded by the hubby's home-based consulting business - and if you think that means he's home and therefore helping me with the kid, well... I may have another blog post for you real soon...).
I don't want to be paid for any of this.
But a little goddam respect for my fucking time and efforts would certainly be appreciated.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
The REAL wrong turn, according to Everybody
So maybe I'm feeling particularly shitty because I woke up this morning and discovered that our kinda sick-looking, half-paralyzed Beta fish died overnight. He was stuck head-down into the gravel at the bottom of the tank, like his last act in life was trying to bury himself. Since Mommy is in charge of human and animal health in the house and the buck stops with me, it's my damn fault the thing died. Don't try to tell me otherwise. Of course, the 2-year-old lost interest in the thing weeks ago and so has not noticed the missing fish, but Hubby got a little upset that we (I) had managed to kill a living thing. It's not a good day when you're flushing dead fish down the shitter before your 1st cup of coffee (that I had to drink with skim milk instead of homogenized because we're out of homogenized, blech. That's like adding white water to your coffee or worse, coffeemate).
So, good morning, it's time to change a diaper, flush a pretty but dead fish down the shitter and then drink your yucky white-water coffee. Have an awesome day.
This is on the day when I have to host/attend this cocktail event thingy that I have NO motivation to go to. The one that I got roped into because facts were either withheld or underplayed when it was presented to me, and I can't find enough bitchiness inside me to quit because I've never quit anything I've given my word to... You know, the kind of group project that everybody but you and 1 other person thinks is super great, and you and the other person think it's lame and bitch about it all the way home after every meeting? This cocktail thingy is being blown out of all reasonable proportion, there's a powerpoint presentation involved and decorations, food and drink, all for about 20 people that I don't know, and the group is all like giddy, and like "did you practice your portion of the powerpoint?" and I'm thinking, no, I did not practice presenting 20 minutes of statistics to 20 strangers because I'm used to speaking for, like, 3 days on end with people I'm supposed to teach, guide, mentor and be a Role Model to in the name of a national federation with a multi-million dollar budget and thousands of members. Plus, I think the whole thing is pretty lame and can't be bothered. The Latina Girl and I both think so and can't wait for the whole thing to be over and done with.
Today and the f'ing cocktail is same day that Hubby knows about since nearly 5 weeks ago. The day he was supposed to help me out and go get The Son from Grandma's house because I'm not available, and then booked a business dinner, informing me of it two days ago. That's after I went and told The Aunt that I didn't need her to babysit today, because he'd be at Grandma's house and Hubby was picking him up. Now there's a whole logistics thing where Hubby will bring Auntie the car seat at work, and Auntie will pick The Son up and bring him home, but only if Grandma already gave him dinner, all this when Auntie is notoriously late all the time and will probably not show up at Grandma's when she is supposed to, and then Grandma will tell me all about it on the phone tomorrow...
That's not really the point. The point is that SAHMs (Stay At Home Moms) are very, very dismissible, according to Everybody. I'm told either that I'm exaggerating, that I'm not the first person to go through this and to suck it up, or that others have Jobs and so everything must be forgiven because they Work. At Jobs. Real ones.
Show up 2 hours later than you were supposed to, and don't call to let the SAHM know? That's OK, according to Everybody, because Mom is at home and doesn't really have a 'set schedule' or 'real commitments'. Because things like nap times, meal times, snack times, appointments, meetings and promises to 2-year-olds don't count as important scheduley things nor commitments.
Say you'll babysit and then cancel the night before (nonchalantly and unapologetic)? Everybody thinks that it's OK, because, really, what kind of serious, important plans would the mother of a 2-year-old have when she's counting on her only day off in a week (or more)? A mother doesn't Work at a Job so she can do whatever unimportant crap she had planned for that day any other day. Because the 16 things you get done alone in 1 day will get done just as quickly with your toddler in tow, including that wax appointment at the salon you can't bring him to. Duh, who doesn't know that?
Do you, as a SAHM, have things like 'feelings' and 'frustration'? Oh, no, I guess it really sucks to be you. Because you CHOSE to stay at home, you see, so you have to shut up and swallow that choice for the rest of your life. Of course being a mom is the 'most important' and 'toughest' job in the world, absolutely. No one disputes that. They just don't want to hear you whine about stuff like you wanting to cry every time The Son asks you to sing that song, because you've sang that song 125000 times already this week. Or when you just want to talk about how you didn't realize caring for another human being day in, day out, would be the most bone-wearing you'd ever do (shout out here to all those who care for another human being in their homes 24 hours a day, young or old). That was your choice, now suck it up and don't bore anyone with the details.
And do please try to tell your face and attitude that you are a happy person, because you've been kind of bitchy lately, quite frankly. I mean, it's not like when he was a baby, when it was really tough and you deserved repsect and offers of help. Like back when he was sleeping 18 hours a day with 2 naps a day and could stay in a pack in play while you showered and emptied the dishwasher. Things are breeze now that he's 2, can open child-proof cabinets, walks, runs, climbs, jumps and wants to 'help you' do everything from folding clothes (which he rumples into a ball and throws on the floor) to washing countertops (screaming when I don't let him have the toxic spray-bottle of soapy-soap I'm using) to vaccuming the carpet (he only vaccums sections of about 6 inches at a time). He also requires full-time, full-eyes-on supervision all the time, or constant entertainment in the form of play, crafts, music, reading books, going to the playground, playing outside in the yard, running races, being pulled in his wagon, being pushed in his stroller, keeping his hands off of the stupid candy displays at arm's reach at all the check-out cash lanes in every store, meals, baths, boo-boo kissing, etc. And he's not really napping anymore, so full-time, awake-time duty for a SAHM with a toddler (as opposed to that quiet, sleeping and immobile baby) goes from 7:00am to 8:00pm. Yeah, but he sleeps nights, doesn't he? So what are you complaining about?
What? Daytime activities, you ask? There are no organized daytime activities for toddlers. Daytime is for daycare, Everybody knows that. Everybody expects toddlers over the age of 18m to be handed over those overworked, underpaid, under-appreciated, under-funded and (too often) under-trained and under-motivated daycare workers. I see them at work, in the playgrounds and fun centers and when they are walking their inmates in a chain-gang with their little orangejumpsuits pinnies on. I see them stare blankly off into to space while they push a bored-looking toddler in the swings, who looks at us in envy while The Son is giddy with mirth because I pretend to munch on his toes with my hands every time he swings toward me. That's the difference, you see, between a well-intended but underpaid and under-appreciated stranger and an unpaid and under-appreciated mother. Toe-munching and laughter vs. blank stares and boredom. But that is also why the mothers are so f'ing tired all the time - we're on for 12-13 hours a day non-stop, but we put so much more goddam heart and effort into it.
Now give the job and the person doing it a little more goddam respect, willya? 'Cause Mother's Day was just 2 days ago and is already a distant memory.
So, good morning, it's time to change a diaper, flush a pretty but dead fish down the shitter and then drink your yucky white-water coffee. Have an awesome day.
This is on the day when I have to host/attend this cocktail event thingy that I have NO motivation to go to. The one that I got roped into because facts were either withheld or underplayed when it was presented to me, and I can't find enough bitchiness inside me to quit because I've never quit anything I've given my word to... You know, the kind of group project that everybody but you and 1 other person thinks is super great, and you and the other person think it's lame and bitch about it all the way home after every meeting? This cocktail thingy is being blown out of all reasonable proportion, there's a powerpoint presentation involved and decorations, food and drink, all for about 20 people that I don't know, and the group is all like giddy, and like "did you practice your portion of the powerpoint?" and I'm thinking, no, I did not practice presenting 20 minutes of statistics to 20 strangers because I'm used to speaking for, like, 3 days on end with people I'm supposed to teach, guide, mentor and be a Role Model to in the name of a national federation with a multi-million dollar budget and thousands of members. Plus, I think the whole thing is pretty lame and can't be bothered. The Latina Girl and I both think so and can't wait for the whole thing to be over and done with.
Today and the f'ing cocktail is same day that Hubby knows about since nearly 5 weeks ago. The day he was supposed to help me out and go get The Son from Grandma's house because I'm not available, and then booked a business dinner, informing me of it two days ago. That's after I went and told The Aunt that I didn't need her to babysit today, because he'd be at Grandma's house and Hubby was picking him up. Now there's a whole logistics thing where Hubby will bring Auntie the car seat at work, and Auntie will pick The Son up and bring him home, but only if Grandma already gave him dinner, all this when Auntie is notoriously late all the time and will probably not show up at Grandma's when she is supposed to, and then Grandma will tell me all about it on the phone tomorrow...
That's not really the point. The point is that SAHMs (Stay At Home Moms) are very, very dismissible, according to Everybody. I'm told either that I'm exaggerating, that I'm not the first person to go through this and to suck it up, or that others have Jobs and so everything must be forgiven because they Work. At Jobs. Real ones.
Show up 2 hours later than you were supposed to, and don't call to let the SAHM know? That's OK, according to Everybody, because Mom is at home and doesn't really have a 'set schedule' or 'real commitments'. Because things like nap times, meal times, snack times, appointments, meetings and promises to 2-year-olds don't count as important scheduley things nor commitments.
Say you'll babysit and then cancel the night before (nonchalantly and unapologetic)? Everybody thinks that it's OK, because, really, what kind of serious, important plans would the mother of a 2-year-old have when she's counting on her only day off in a week (or more)? A mother doesn't Work at a Job so she can do whatever unimportant crap she had planned for that day any other day. Because the 16 things you get done alone in 1 day will get done just as quickly with your toddler in tow, including that wax appointment at the salon you can't bring him to. Duh, who doesn't know that?
Do you, as a SAHM, have things like 'feelings' and 'frustration'? Oh, no, I guess it really sucks to be you. Because you CHOSE to stay at home, you see, so you have to shut up and swallow that choice for the rest of your life. Of course being a mom is the 'most important' and 'toughest' job in the world, absolutely. No one disputes that. They just don't want to hear you whine about stuff like you wanting to cry every time The Son asks you to sing that song, because you've sang that song 125000 times already this week. Or when you just want to talk about how you didn't realize caring for another human being day in, day out, would be the most bone-wearing you'd ever do (shout out here to all those who care for another human being in their homes 24 hours a day, young or old). That was your choice, now suck it up and don't bore anyone with the details.
And do please try to tell your face and attitude that you are a happy person, because you've been kind of bitchy lately, quite frankly. I mean, it's not like when he was a baby, when it was really tough and you deserved repsect and offers of help. Like back when he was sleeping 18 hours a day with 2 naps a day and could stay in a pack in play while you showered and emptied the dishwasher. Things are breeze now that he's 2, can open child-proof cabinets, walks, runs, climbs, jumps and wants to 'help you' do everything from folding clothes (which he rumples into a ball and throws on the floor) to washing countertops (screaming when I don't let him have the toxic spray-bottle of soapy-soap I'm using) to vaccuming the carpet (he only vaccums sections of about 6 inches at a time). He also requires full-time, full-eyes-on supervision all the time, or constant entertainment in the form of play, crafts, music, reading books, going to the playground, playing outside in the yard, running races, being pulled in his wagon, being pushed in his stroller, keeping his hands off of the stupid candy displays at arm's reach at all the check-out cash lanes in every store, meals, baths, boo-boo kissing, etc. And he's not really napping anymore, so full-time, awake-time duty for a SAHM with a toddler (as opposed to that quiet, sleeping and immobile baby) goes from 7:00am to 8:00pm. Yeah, but he sleeps nights, doesn't he? So what are you complaining about?
What? Daytime activities, you ask? There are no organized daytime activities for toddlers. Daytime is for daycare, Everybody knows that. Everybody expects toddlers over the age of 18m to be handed over those overworked, underpaid, under-appreciated, under-funded and (too often) under-trained and under-motivated daycare workers. I see them at work, in the playgrounds and fun centers and when they are walking their inmates in a chain-gang with their little orange
Now give the job and the person doing it a little more goddam respect, willya? 'Cause Mother's Day was just 2 days ago and is already a distant memory.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Monday cliché
I truly woke up on the wrong foot this morning, when the first thoughts I was aware of were about a lost friend. Maybe I was dreaming, and the dream bled into my first waking thoughts, but it made for a sad kind of awakening.
It is possible that the sadness is rooted in other issues I'm grappling with right now, like a family member we should not have accepted to do business with who is now dissatisfied with a delay, and which breaks my heart a bit because we really like them and now it's gotten weird. Or maybe it's just more fatigue caused by our financial woes, which force me to keep a happy face on almost all the time despite crushing worries and no idea what our future will look like, or even where we'll live.
Or maybe it boils down to learning that we're getting a late-winter dumping of snow tomorrow at the end of a season of dumpings of snow interrupted only by periods of slushy, gross thaws. For one of the first times in my life, I joined the hyperbolic masses in griping about this seemingly interminable winter. But I think this is more than a simple case of Monday Blahs.
The loss of this good friend is something that I often think I've gotten over, but just when I'm cruising along without a single thought in my mind about the entire thing, my senses are sparked by something that reminds me of this person and I get sad for a moment. And for some strange reason, I woke up this morning with a strong sense of loss and a nagging persistent thought that wanted to know: why?
This former friend was the kind of friend that you talk to every day. That knows pretty much everything about you. That you've gone on holiday with, and who has stuck by you in your hard times. It was an improbable friendship between two people about whom others wondered how we ended up friends in the first place. I was closer to this person than to my own family members. I cherished this friendship. And one day, without much warning that I could feel or see, my friend stopped returning my calls.
Like the jilted lover who won't take a hint, I couldn't take the hint. It was simply inconceivable to me that there was a hint that I should have been taking. I couldn't understand how or why more than 10 years of close, intense friendship would be subjected to hint-dropping and an unspoken break-up. But when I just wouldn't stop calling and acting as though our friendship was unbreakable no matter what, my now ex-friend had to tell me explicitly that I needed to stop calling her, and that she would call me when and if she were ever ready to do so. I vaguely remember being told that the Ex "needed some space" and something about me being "intense". And for almost five years following that shocking talk, I heard nothing else from my Ex-Friend. I was never told how my unwavering loyalty in her time of need had been interpreted as being too intense. I was never told how this expressive and emotional person had gone from telling me and everyone around her that I was her sister-soul, to being banished from her life and barred from calling her. I never understood what it was about her and her life - and more personally, what it was about me and the friendship I offered - that made me go from sister-soul to banishment in what I perceived to be almost overnight.
Years passed, and like any other bad break-up, I mourned my loss and got over it, resigned that I would never know what happened and simply forced to accept that it did. I gradually stopped thinking about it and moved on. Every once in a while, either through friends or on Facebook, I'd be reminded of this person's existence and the fact that I was deleted from her life, and I would be reminded of how much this person had hurt me with her sudden rejection. Once, we were at an event where she called someone else her sister-soul in my presence, and I had to walk away. And since this new sister-soul was able to give something to the Ex that the Ex needed, the only thing I could think about her was that she was a lying, hypocritical liar who used people when she needed them and discarded them once they no longer had anything to offer her.
But overall, I buried the relationship like a dead relative and got on with things. I did what I used to do to get over old boyfriends: I focused on her faults and forgot about what I thought had been her good qualities. I got over it, and moved on. Because what else can one do, really?
Then, out of the blue, nearly 5 years later, a phone call. An invitation to go out and have dinner. To talk. My injured pride told me to decline and stay home, but my curiosity and need to know WHY got the best of me, and I went. After some awkward small talk, I was told that there was no real reason why. There were some attempts to explain that there were bad times, lots of "it wasn't you, it was me", some apology for the break-up being so radical and so woefully unexplained and then - surprise - the admission that she missed me and an offer to renew ties. I was funny and smart and she missed that about me, and missed it in her life.
I felt more blind-sided by this offer of renewed friendship than the actual break-up itself. I came from from dinner even more confused than before and, if possible, feeling even more betrayed. There was no enlightening reason why I was treated so shoddily, nothing I could wrap my brain around and learn to accept. I hadn't done anything necessarily wrong, I just, well, needed to get gone out of her life because of not me, but her. And now I was being invited back into this person's life because I was funny? Or something? So after being pushed away for no concrete reason, I was being invited back for no concrete reason.
I couldn't accept. As much as I missed the sisterhood of friendship that I had not known up until then and have not enjoyed with anyone ever since, I could not allow myself to trust this person with my heart anymore. Had I been provided with a reason - any reason, even one that was a blatant fault or error on my part - that my rational mind could wrap itself around, I could have contemplated forgiving and forgetting and rekindled a sort of friendship with her. If there were something I could have apologized for, something that we could have avoided repeating in future... But from my perspective, all I got as a reason was, "I was going through stuff, and I suddenly decided not to see you anymore." Ok, fine. But why would I invest myself in you and trust you again? What keeps you from doing this to me again later on?? All of it is basically arbitrary, and based on whim.
And that's what came out of my mouth as an answer at that fateful dinner, five years after the break-up. I told her that I felt exactly as though I'd been dumped (which I was) and that I worked very hard to get over the pain and sadness and sense of loss I felt at being cut off from a friendship that I thought was for life, unshakable and always there to rely on. I learned to live without her without really understanding why I'd been forced to do so. And after so many years, I was over her and had learned to live my life differently. This new invitation to become friends again was like an ex-boyfriend coming back so many years after you got over him and telling you he never stopped loving you and that he wanted to be part of your life again. I can finally remember our good times fondly and without so much pain, but I can't fall back into love with you. It all just hurt too much.
Some tell me that if I were a true friend, I would forgive and forget. That the friendship I miss so much would be worth it. That it took my Ex a lot of courage to call me up and offer to be friends again. But I just couldn't do it. I didn't hate her, I wasn't really bitter anymore, and I hope she has a wonderful life.
But I have a lot going on in my life that makes me feel vulnerable, and that I steel myself to face every single day. I don't need more drama, thank you very much. I need to save up my courage every day to just get through the day, I don't have any courage left over to take a chance, open up my heart and get stomped on again.
Apparently, despite all of this, I still wake up every once in a while with a sense of loss and a need to know the "real reason" why.
It is possible that the sadness is rooted in other issues I'm grappling with right now, like a family member we should not have accepted to do business with who is now dissatisfied with a delay, and which breaks my heart a bit because we really like them and now it's gotten weird. Or maybe it's just more fatigue caused by our financial woes, which force me to keep a happy face on almost all the time despite crushing worries and no idea what our future will look like, or even where we'll live.
Or maybe it boils down to learning that we're getting a late-winter dumping of snow tomorrow at the end of a season of dumpings of snow interrupted only by periods of slushy, gross thaws. For one of the first times in my life, I joined the hyperbolic masses in griping about this seemingly interminable winter. But I think this is more than a simple case of Monday Blahs.
The loss of this good friend is something that I often think I've gotten over, but just when I'm cruising along without a single thought in my mind about the entire thing, my senses are sparked by something that reminds me of this person and I get sad for a moment. And for some strange reason, I woke up this morning with a strong sense of loss and a nagging persistent thought that wanted to know: why?
This former friend was the kind of friend that you talk to every day. That knows pretty much everything about you. That you've gone on holiday with, and who has stuck by you in your hard times. It was an improbable friendship between two people about whom others wondered how we ended up friends in the first place. I was closer to this person than to my own family members. I cherished this friendship. And one day, without much warning that I could feel or see, my friend stopped returning my calls.
Like the jilted lover who won't take a hint, I couldn't take the hint. It was simply inconceivable to me that there was a hint that I should have been taking. I couldn't understand how or why more than 10 years of close, intense friendship would be subjected to hint-dropping and an unspoken break-up. But when I just wouldn't stop calling and acting as though our friendship was unbreakable no matter what, my now ex-friend had to tell me explicitly that I needed to stop calling her, and that she would call me when and if she were ever ready to do so. I vaguely remember being told that the Ex "needed some space" and something about me being "intense". And for almost five years following that shocking talk, I heard nothing else from my Ex-Friend. I was never told how my unwavering loyalty in her time of need had been interpreted as being too intense. I was never told how this expressive and emotional person had gone from telling me and everyone around her that I was her sister-soul, to being banished from her life and barred from calling her. I never understood what it was about her and her life - and more personally, what it was about me and the friendship I offered - that made me go from sister-soul to banishment in what I perceived to be almost overnight.
Years passed, and like any other bad break-up, I mourned my loss and got over it, resigned that I would never know what happened and simply forced to accept that it did. I gradually stopped thinking about it and moved on. Every once in a while, either through friends or on Facebook, I'd be reminded of this person's existence and the fact that I was deleted from her life, and I would be reminded of how much this person had hurt me with her sudden rejection. Once, we were at an event where she called someone else her sister-soul in my presence, and I had to walk away. And since this new sister-soul was able to give something to the Ex that the Ex needed, the only thing I could think about her was that she was a lying, hypocritical liar who used people when she needed them and discarded them once they no longer had anything to offer her.
But overall, I buried the relationship like a dead relative and got on with things. I did what I used to do to get over old boyfriends: I focused on her faults and forgot about what I thought had been her good qualities. I got over it, and moved on. Because what else can one do, really?
Then, out of the blue, nearly 5 years later, a phone call. An invitation to go out and have dinner. To talk. My injured pride told me to decline and stay home, but my curiosity and need to know WHY got the best of me, and I went. After some awkward small talk, I was told that there was no real reason why. There were some attempts to explain that there were bad times, lots of "it wasn't you, it was me", some apology for the break-up being so radical and so woefully unexplained and then - surprise - the admission that she missed me and an offer to renew ties. I was funny and smart and she missed that about me, and missed it in her life.
I felt more blind-sided by this offer of renewed friendship than the actual break-up itself. I came from from dinner even more confused than before and, if possible, feeling even more betrayed. There was no enlightening reason why I was treated so shoddily, nothing I could wrap my brain around and learn to accept. I hadn't done anything necessarily wrong, I just, well, needed to get gone out of her life because of not me, but her. And now I was being invited back into this person's life because I was funny? Or something? So after being pushed away for no concrete reason, I was being invited back for no concrete reason.
I couldn't accept. As much as I missed the sisterhood of friendship that I had not known up until then and have not enjoyed with anyone ever since, I could not allow myself to trust this person with my heart anymore. Had I been provided with a reason - any reason, even one that was a blatant fault or error on my part - that my rational mind could wrap itself around, I could have contemplated forgiving and forgetting and rekindled a sort of friendship with her. If there were something I could have apologized for, something that we could have avoided repeating in future... But from my perspective, all I got as a reason was, "I was going through stuff, and I suddenly decided not to see you anymore." Ok, fine. But why would I invest myself in you and trust you again? What keeps you from doing this to me again later on?? All of it is basically arbitrary, and based on whim.
And that's what came out of my mouth as an answer at that fateful dinner, five years after the break-up. I told her that I felt exactly as though I'd been dumped (which I was) and that I worked very hard to get over the pain and sadness and sense of loss I felt at being cut off from a friendship that I thought was for life, unshakable and always there to rely on. I learned to live without her without really understanding why I'd been forced to do so. And after so many years, I was over her and had learned to live my life differently. This new invitation to become friends again was like an ex-boyfriend coming back so many years after you got over him and telling you he never stopped loving you and that he wanted to be part of your life again. I can finally remember our good times fondly and without so much pain, but I can't fall back into love with you. It all just hurt too much.
Some tell me that if I were a true friend, I would forgive and forget. That the friendship I miss so much would be worth it. That it took my Ex a lot of courage to call me up and offer to be friends again. But I just couldn't do it. I didn't hate her, I wasn't really bitter anymore, and I hope she has a wonderful life.
But I have a lot going on in my life that makes me feel vulnerable, and that I steel myself to face every single day. I don't need more drama, thank you very much. I need to save up my courage every day to just get through the day, I don't have any courage left over to take a chance, open up my heart and get stomped on again.
Apparently, despite all of this, I still wake up every once in a while with a sense of loss and a need to know the "real reason" why.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Why I am a SAHM
The older my child gets, the stronger the reactions I receive from
people when I tell them that he does not attend daycare. These
reactions run the gamut: some are shocked that my son is being somehow
deprived of an experience they consider essential to childhood; some
smile knowingly and praise me for being home with my child; and some
just express jealousy and incomprehension about how I manage to do it.
The shocked group is by far the largest. They are completely aghast that I would even consider staying home (from work outside the home) and that I would choose to be with my own child all day. What about his socialization? they lament, looking down in pity at the happy, healthy 2-year-old standing at my knee. What about you and your needs? they ask in consternation.
My answer comes in several parts.
Opting out of daycare feels much more natural to me than using daycare. That's just what it boiled down to for me. I am the mother, I chose to put this life into the world. I chose to have this child because I want to raise him, I want to spend time with him. I am the best option for him. And that raising this baby, this boy, to be a man, is a very empowering and enriching experience. More and more, I feel like when I have to explain this to people, they won't get it anyway.
Those who give me knowing smiles know exactly what I mean. They know that you do give up some things, but you gain on many other things. Like not using an alarm clock to wake up in the morning. Like shopping in blissfully quiet stores while everyone is at work. Like not having to face a commute in a car, bus or metro. Like not having a boss. Or a dress code. And never worrying that you haven't spent enough time with your children. When I hear some working women talk about their stress levels and their unmanageable schedules, I kind of pity them. It's a rat race when you don't have kids, I cannot imagine keeping up the pace with young children. When my son waked up with fever, all I'm worried about is the fever. I cancel the day's activities and we stay home with some Advil and a blanket. For some working women, a feverish toddler represents unimaginable stress and truly difficult situations. My whole lifestyle changed when I decided to stay home with my son. I went from double-income-no-kids to clipping coupons. But when I think of everything my decision procured me, I have no regrets whatsoever.
And those who sigh wistfully and "wish" they cold stay home? Please.
For some people, this is a legitimate wish. I know mothers who are working their way through school, trying to build a better life for themselves and their children. There are plenty of people who legitimately use daycare.
But for too many others, staying home is a matter of making too many financial and lifestyle sacrifices that people are too unwilling to make. If you can at all afford it, staying at home is not something you wish for, it's something you just do. How? It's quite simple, really. You give up the things on the following list: spas, manicures, pedicures, weekend getaways, take-out food, expensive restaurants, designer clothing, the new car, the second car, movie theaters, couples-only all-inclusive holidays down south, tickets to whatever, the new iPhone to replace the old iPhone you got 6 months ago and everything else presented in commercials that make you think you "deserve" to give your money away the people that sell these things. You think you're "worth" a pedicure? I think my son is worth MORE than a pedicure. Or designer handbag. Or whatever. I know some people that say they can't afford to lose a salary, and then go on about the show they went to see, the great spa they discovered, the room they plan to renovate and the latest hot restaurant they tried. I gave that up in part to be with my son. In my case, I know this situation is not forever, and the pedis and restaurants will slowly creep back into my lifestyle. It's just four years, until he goes to pre-school, and it is so incredibly worth it.
Again, if I have to explain it, I feel like the only people who will understand are the knowing-smiles people. I have witnessed all of my child's firsts, helped with the development of his skills, speech, manners and overall education. I saw the daily increments of his change and development and know him completely. I know his daily moods and rhythms and can anticipate them, avoiding mood swings and tantrums because I cater my schedule to his routine. If he needs to break the routine, I can adjust our schedule to accommodate that. Had a bad night and need to sleep in? I can handle that, because there's no hustle-out-the-door routine that needs to be respected in order to get to work on time. He gets socialization at the community center, the library and some play spaces, and then he's out in the neighborhood (bank, grocery store, drug store, post office, park, playground, bicycle paths, museums, botanical gardens, Biodome, you get the picture) with me.
I was walking to the playground with my son last year when he spotted a blue flower - a weed, really - growing in the crack of the sidewalk. "Wha dat?" he asked. I explained it was a flower, just growing in a place they don't usually grow. My son knelt to first examine the flower closely, and then tried to smell it, shrugging when he couldn't get a smell out of it (probably because he hadn't yet mastered inhaling on command through his nose, and instead exhaled). "Pitty," he concluded, calling the flower 'pretty' in a way only I could understand. Then he got up and happily kept walking. A few paces behind us was a group from a daycare, walking single-file behind a daycare employee and all holding on to a long, tether-like strap with handles. They were all about my son's age and wearing oversize green pinnies. When they walked by the flower, one of the girls in the group pointed to it. "A flower!" she said, as she stopped walking. The two kids in front of her were pulled to a stop, and the two behind her walked into her and each other. "We don't have time for that," scolded the employee lightly. "Now please keep walking or we'll be late for playtime at the park." The girl pouted, but started walking with the others. She turned her head to look t the flower once they'd gone past it.
Why judge me for making the sacrifices and choosing one lifestyle for my son and myself over the other one? We made an independent choice that was right for our family and supported by the rest of my family. I don't regret one moment of the time I spend at home, and should be made to felt like I should be anywhere else.
The shocked group is by far the largest. They are completely aghast that I would even consider staying home (from work outside the home) and that I would choose to be with my own child all day. What about his socialization? they lament, looking down in pity at the happy, healthy 2-year-old standing at my knee. What about you and your needs? they ask in consternation.
My answer comes in several parts.
- Judging by the criticism of the attitudes exhibited by younger generations presently going through school, and judging by the growing social issues faced by this generation, not the least being violence-driven bullying and suicide and self-harm at alarmingly younger ages, what exactly am I supposed to find positive about the shared early-childhood experience that is the daycare system? Assuming that early-childhood social, familial and educational experiences are the foundations of personality, the resulting attitudes and personalities exhibited by a few generations of daycare kids are less than appealing. As a college-educated woman, who happens to have a degree in education, I feel uniquely qualified to raise and educate my own children, thank you very much. Government services being as lamentable as they are, how can any parent suggest to me that the CEGEP-trained stranger who works in some of the assembly-line versions of toddler care that exist out there be a better care-giver and educator than a loving parent? We're not talking private institutions with individualized care or the one-on-one experience of being with a dedicated nanny, here. We're talking about something the government runs and that costs you seven whole dollars a day. I know that some are better than others, but no matter how good it gets, it still boils down to a stranger versus a parent, and profit versus family. I can concede that I may do no better than a daycare with my son, but I take offense at the idea that I could do worse.
- And while we're on the notion of one-system-fits-all institutionalization of early childhood, how come these intelligent free-thinking parents buy into this too-often cookie-cutter concept of child-rearing? It's one system for all the children, and the child who isn't ready for (or isn't buying into) this production line of so-called care is labelled as a behavioral problem. "Jessica does not want to put on her snow-suit with all the other children at precisely 10am when she is told it is time for snow-suits. Nous reccomendons une consultation avec une intervenante du CLSC." I was told by a former daycare worker that ALL babies are given their own spoon when put into their highchairs at the age of 7 months. And what if the baby has no interest in using a spoon, and still wants to explore the texture and feel of the food he just began eating about 2 moths ago? Shrug. "They all get a spoon at 7 months". And so my conclusion is the following: we don't allow any individuality at all, as young as 7 months. So Baby can never evolve at his/her own pace. Ever. And if they express an emotion about being forced into a system or schedule that they aren't ready for or don't want? Get ready for that label and that intervenante. If early-childhood is not the time for following the child's pace, then it's never time, is it? And that is, quite frankly, a very sad thing.
- I don't need to parent my children via guilt trips. There are none imposed by my child, none that I imposed on myself. I am with my child every day of the year (barring the times he is with Gramma or Auntie or alone with Daddy). I don't feel the need to purchase my way back into my son's life and good graces and my firm NO remains an unwavering firm NO, no matter the behavior that follows. I need the no to remain a no because I will pay for any behaviors coming out of giving in, and I will not be able to rid myself of the indulgence-driven behavior by dumping my child into the human-storage-facility that is daycare.
- How come my child is happy to wander off and play when we go to playgroup or when we visit people in their homes, instead of being an insecure ball of nerves that clings to their parents like velcro and screams for attention? Because my quality time with my child is all the rest of the time he is with me, and he does not need to clamor for attention during the paltry few couple of weekend hours they have with their parents. I have no guilt about handing him an iPad with an alphabet app while I have a glass of wine with a friend, because we just played alphabet games together for an hour before we came over, and did so every day of the previous week.
- My needs? My needs are fulfilled, thank you very much. My fulfillment does not depend on working in an office with a boss I can only tolerate, or on coworkers more depressed than I am or on a commute from hell. My fulfillment is not attained by having extra income to buy myself yet more crap that will be meaningless to myself and others when I die. I do not need a Rudsack jacket and a pedi to believe that I am worthwhile. What I do need to to feel is satisfaction and pride in the fact that I am doing the very best I can for my son. And as far as my education goes - which some consider as 'wasted' because I don't work outside the home - I will allow the father of young the Pakistani girl who was shot in the head by the Taliban for wanting to go to school and saying so to speak for me. Malala's father says, "To educate a woman is to educate the entire family." I offer my education to my family first, not to strangers. I can think of no better use of my education than to put it to the service of my own family, so that they may go out in turn and serve themselves and others in the best way possible. If I were in charge of a lab finding cures for cancer, or the manager of something... We'd most likely be having a different conversation, but I'm not, and just like I made choices for myself, that researcher or manager would also make the best choices for herself.
Opting out of daycare feels much more natural to me than using daycare. That's just what it boiled down to for me. I am the mother, I chose to put this life into the world. I chose to have this child because I want to raise him, I want to spend time with him. I am the best option for him. And that raising this baby, this boy, to be a man, is a very empowering and enriching experience. More and more, I feel like when I have to explain this to people, they won't get it anyway.
Those who give me knowing smiles know exactly what I mean. They know that you do give up some things, but you gain on many other things. Like not using an alarm clock to wake up in the morning. Like shopping in blissfully quiet stores while everyone is at work. Like not having to face a commute in a car, bus or metro. Like not having a boss. Or a dress code. And never worrying that you haven't spent enough time with your children. When I hear some working women talk about their stress levels and their unmanageable schedules, I kind of pity them. It's a rat race when you don't have kids, I cannot imagine keeping up the pace with young children. When my son waked up with fever, all I'm worried about is the fever. I cancel the day's activities and we stay home with some Advil and a blanket. For some working women, a feverish toddler represents unimaginable stress and truly difficult situations. My whole lifestyle changed when I decided to stay home with my son. I went from double-income-no-kids to clipping coupons. But when I think of everything my decision procured me, I have no regrets whatsoever.
And those who sigh wistfully and "wish" they cold stay home? Please.
For some people, this is a legitimate wish. I know mothers who are working their way through school, trying to build a better life for themselves and their children. There are plenty of people who legitimately use daycare.
But for too many others, staying home is a matter of making too many financial and lifestyle sacrifices that people are too unwilling to make. If you can at all afford it, staying at home is not something you wish for, it's something you just do. How? It's quite simple, really. You give up the things on the following list: spas, manicures, pedicures, weekend getaways, take-out food, expensive restaurants, designer clothing, the new car, the second car, movie theaters, couples-only all-inclusive holidays down south, tickets to whatever, the new iPhone to replace the old iPhone you got 6 months ago and everything else presented in commercials that make you think you "deserve" to give your money away the people that sell these things. You think you're "worth" a pedicure? I think my son is worth MORE than a pedicure. Or designer handbag. Or whatever. I know some people that say they can't afford to lose a salary, and then go on about the show they went to see, the great spa they discovered, the room they plan to renovate and the latest hot restaurant they tried. I gave that up in part to be with my son. In my case, I know this situation is not forever, and the pedis and restaurants will slowly creep back into my lifestyle. It's just four years, until he goes to pre-school, and it is so incredibly worth it.
Again, if I have to explain it, I feel like the only people who will understand are the knowing-smiles people. I have witnessed all of my child's firsts, helped with the development of his skills, speech, manners and overall education. I saw the daily increments of his change and development and know him completely. I know his daily moods and rhythms and can anticipate them, avoiding mood swings and tantrums because I cater my schedule to his routine. If he needs to break the routine, I can adjust our schedule to accommodate that. Had a bad night and need to sleep in? I can handle that, because there's no hustle-out-the-door routine that needs to be respected in order to get to work on time. He gets socialization at the community center, the library and some play spaces, and then he's out in the neighborhood (bank, grocery store, drug store, post office, park, playground, bicycle paths, museums, botanical gardens, Biodome, you get the picture) with me.
I was walking to the playground with my son last year when he spotted a blue flower - a weed, really - growing in the crack of the sidewalk. "Wha dat?" he asked. I explained it was a flower, just growing in a place they don't usually grow. My son knelt to first examine the flower closely, and then tried to smell it, shrugging when he couldn't get a smell out of it (probably because he hadn't yet mastered inhaling on command through his nose, and instead exhaled). "Pitty," he concluded, calling the flower 'pretty' in a way only I could understand. Then he got up and happily kept walking. A few paces behind us was a group from a daycare, walking single-file behind a daycare employee and all holding on to a long, tether-like strap with handles. They were all about my son's age and wearing oversize green pinnies. When they walked by the flower, one of the girls in the group pointed to it. "A flower!" she said, as she stopped walking. The two kids in front of her were pulled to a stop, and the two behind her walked into her and each other. "We don't have time for that," scolded the employee lightly. "Now please keep walking or we'll be late for playtime at the park." The girl pouted, but started walking with the others. She turned her head to look t the flower once they'd gone past it.
Why judge me for making the sacrifices and choosing one lifestyle for my son and myself over the other one? We made an independent choice that was right for our family and supported by the rest of my family. I don't regret one moment of the time I spend at home, and should be made to felt like I should be anywhere else.
Monday, May 14, 2012
They'll have to find a new way to march.
http://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/story/2012/05/13/pol-rcmp-watchdog-report-g8-g20-toronto-2010.html
Reading this article and the comments.
I have great difficulty in trying to understand, support or pity people who brandish the Charter of Rights in order to condone or excuse violent acts. Some ask: "Who cares about a few broken windows (when it's about me exercising my 'democratic rights' and speaking 'truth to power')?" Well, I care about the broken window, and I'm sure so does the shop owner who has to replace it, and had to watch it being broken while he worried about the contents of the shop and his livelihood. What about his rights, to own the shop and live free from the tyranny of THAT violence?
Most of the masses out there do not get a kick out of watching these protests inevitably turn violent. I know I can't help shake my head and wonder what exactly anyone thinks they are achieving by breaking into security perimeters (such as at the PLQ thing in Victoriaville) and throwing chunks of asphalt at police, and then whinging about police brutality. Quite frankly, it's become expected: police and politicians know what is coming and how it will end, and so does the public. A protest at a summit or a hockey playoff street celebration now always ends with broken windows, smoke, arrests and accusations of police brutality, and the only ones who seem to be surprised that it ends that way are the protestors who still think that these violent marches will change a politician's mind. The only thing achieved is a little pocket of chaos, which only an anarchist or a sadist can relish and enjoy.
So that old saw that goes, "If you look like X and dress like X and talk like X, don't be surprised when people/police treat you like X." Let's assume X = anarchist. And that right there is why people can't get behind you on causes that should normally attract more understanding and sympathy.
The Occupy movement is a little different for me. The Occupiers have proved themselves to be almost completely passive, and largely self-policing. Violent people in the camps and marches were often denounced and pointed out to the police. They demonstrated the only behavior I can accept as being truly peaceful and passive: they sat down a lot. They rag-dolled when being arrested. They brought attention to and started an important an important conversation on how the ultra-rich are milking consumers and governments mostly without billiard balls and hammers and broken windows.
Those who crave more public support for causes that - at their root - appeal to a wide portion of the public should stop going out into the street with people who bring billiard balls, golf balls, rocks and hammers to "peaceful" marches, and stop crying when they get arrested for walking shoulder-to-shoulder with those violent criminals. And when you throw golf balls and hammers at the police... Most people feel that you're guilty of a crime and have no problem with the police moving in to arrest you and anybody defending you. If those arrested had been sitting down weaving daisy chains, I would question the police, whom we know are necessary but can abuse their power on occasion. When things get violent and the police step in, I really don't have a problem with that. When you mop the floor, you mop both the dirty and clean bits, you can't stop and sort. If you don't want to get mopped, you stay off that floor.
Today the newsies are reporting that those morons who smoke-bombed the Montreal metro were applauded by some people in the courtroom after the hearing was adjourned. And that's how many see the anti-tuition-hike protesters: as applauders of these morons. It's become impossible to disassociate the issue form that image and idea. You what else didn't help the dying cause? The "creativeness" the protesters thought they were demonstrating, like that underwear march. "May as well be naked if were going to have to bend over and take it," one of the marchers explained. They were being creative, they claimed. Most adults saw it as snark. And you know that thing about imagining your audience in their underwear when you're nervous about being on stage? It works because people in their underwear are not considered as serious as when they are clothed. The underwear parade worked perfectly in that sense: a lot of people in the audience did not consider serious in the least.
All this may mean that your "not-so-peaceful protest march" formula needs to be re-figured, if it can still be used to any affect at all. If the Occupiers were successful in avoiding the take-over of their events by violent chaos-seekers, then why can't students and G-whatever protesters? I've always wondered why masked people with bulging, heavy backpacks were tolerated by peaceful marchers. If the Black Block idiots are supposed to be so easy to spot, why don't protesters just sit down and point these guys out to the police, helping the police arrest them, and then keep marching? See, it's not enough to say that YOU personally and all your friends weren't violent, you have to actually denounce the violence itself and help the police get the real bad guys if you want us to support you. But if you stand between the police and the anarchists, we begin to shrug our shoulders. If you're sincere about gaining public support and convincing people about your issues, you have to find a way to reclaim your marches from these criminals, or find a new way to protest.
Reading this article and the comments.
I have great difficulty in trying to understand, support or pity people who brandish the Charter of Rights in order to condone or excuse violent acts. Some ask: "Who cares about a few broken windows (when it's about me exercising my 'democratic rights' and speaking 'truth to power')?" Well, I care about the broken window, and I'm sure so does the shop owner who has to replace it, and had to watch it being broken while he worried about the contents of the shop and his livelihood. What about his rights, to own the shop and live free from the tyranny of THAT violence?
Most of the masses out there do not get a kick out of watching these protests inevitably turn violent. I know I can't help shake my head and wonder what exactly anyone thinks they are achieving by breaking into security perimeters (such as at the PLQ thing in Victoriaville) and throwing chunks of asphalt at police, and then whinging about police brutality. Quite frankly, it's become expected: police and politicians know what is coming and how it will end, and so does the public. A protest at a summit or a hockey playoff street celebration now always ends with broken windows, smoke, arrests and accusations of police brutality, and the only ones who seem to be surprised that it ends that way are the protestors who still think that these violent marches will change a politician's mind. The only thing achieved is a little pocket of chaos, which only an anarchist or a sadist can relish and enjoy.
So that old saw that goes, "If you look like X and dress like X and talk like X, don't be surprised when people/police treat you like X." Let's assume X = anarchist. And that right there is why people can't get behind you on causes that should normally attract more understanding and sympathy.
The Occupy movement is a little different for me. The Occupiers have proved themselves to be almost completely passive, and largely self-policing. Violent people in the camps and marches were often denounced and pointed out to the police. They demonstrated the only behavior I can accept as being truly peaceful and passive: they sat down a lot. They rag-dolled when being arrested. They brought attention to and started an important an important conversation on how the ultra-rich are milking consumers and governments mostly without billiard balls and hammers and broken windows.
Those who crave more public support for causes that - at their root - appeal to a wide portion of the public should stop going out into the street with people who bring billiard balls, golf balls, rocks and hammers to "peaceful" marches, and stop crying when they get arrested for walking shoulder-to-shoulder with those violent criminals. And when you throw golf balls and hammers at the police... Most people feel that you're guilty of a crime and have no problem with the police moving in to arrest you and anybody defending you. If those arrested had been sitting down weaving daisy chains, I would question the police, whom we know are necessary but can abuse their power on occasion. When things get violent and the police step in, I really don't have a problem with that. When you mop the floor, you mop both the dirty and clean bits, you can't stop and sort. If you don't want to get mopped, you stay off that floor.
Today the newsies are reporting that those morons who smoke-bombed the Montreal metro were applauded by some people in the courtroom after the hearing was adjourned. And that's how many see the anti-tuition-hike protesters: as applauders of these morons. It's become impossible to disassociate the issue form that image and idea. You what else didn't help the dying cause? The "creativeness" the protesters thought they were demonstrating, like that underwear march. "May as well be naked if were going to have to bend over and take it," one of the marchers explained. They were being creative, they claimed. Most adults saw it as snark. And you know that thing about imagining your audience in their underwear when you're nervous about being on stage? It works because people in their underwear are not considered as serious as when they are clothed. The underwear parade worked perfectly in that sense: a lot of people in the audience did not consider serious in the least.
All this may mean that your "not-so-peaceful protest march" formula needs to be re-figured, if it can still be used to any affect at all. If the Occupiers were successful in avoiding the take-over of their events by violent chaos-seekers, then why can't students and G-whatever protesters? I've always wondered why masked people with bulging, heavy backpacks were tolerated by peaceful marchers. If the Black Block idiots are supposed to be so easy to spot, why don't protesters just sit down and point these guys out to the police, helping the police arrest them, and then keep marching? See, it's not enough to say that YOU personally and all your friends weren't violent, you have to actually denounce the violence itself and help the police get the real bad guys if you want us to support you. But if you stand between the police and the anarchists, we begin to shrug our shoulders. If you're sincere about gaining public support and convincing people about your issues, you have to find a way to reclaim your marches from these criminals, or find a new way to protest.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Dear Madame Senator
So, some senator wants to attempt to prove her relevancy by weighing in on the Quebec City Amphitheater nonsense by pooping all over the people that oppose the project (who, according to her, are 'Montrealers').
Article here.
(It pains me to be on the same as Amir Khadir on any issue. He's against the issue to attract attention to himself, period. However...)
Mme Senator wants to poop all over my opposition as though opposing the project is based on jealousy. As though Montrealers begrudge Quebec City for wanting the arena. That is simply bovine excrement.
I oppose the project because it is based on the outright lie that building the arena will magically make the Nordiques reappear in the city. Mr. Bettman has repeated time and time again that the NHL will not relocate a team to Quebec City just because they build a rink. So why the hell are we spending $200 million on a rink that will remain without a team? Hamilton learned the lesson, why does Quebec City ignore it?
Here are Gary's own words:
To be unambiguous: the supporters of this project need to stop lying. Stop lying to yourselves and others. Halting the construction of the arena does NOT put the return of the Nordiques to Quebec City in jeopardy. The Nordiques are NOT returning to Quebec City, so nothing can put the return in jeopardy. Stop deluding yourselves. It really begs the question: what part of Gary Bettman's statement to the fact that there is no planned return of an NHL franchise to QC-City, and that a new arena changes nothing about that non-plan, don't you understand?
Mme Senator wants to say that I should shut up and shell out my tax money for an unneeded rink because Montreal has the Big Owe. Memo to Mme Senator: I was 5 years old when that useless waste opened for the Olympics. I would gladly pack it up and send it to Quebec City: it is ugly, it is a waste of money and we spend waaaay too much time and resources on it. I don't want it and I never wanted it, so don't tell me to be somehow grateful for it like it's a huge source of pride. And it, too, sits empty and devoid of a professional team. So because Drapeau imposed this monstrosity upon Montrealers, we now have to put up with the fantasies of the latest ego-maniacal mayor, in the person of Régis Labaume, to put up YET ANOTHER useless sports arena that will overrun its budget, cost taxpayers more than it should, line the pockets of construction contractors over-charging because it's a government project and REMAIN EMPTY. And so they refuse to learn the lessons of both Hamilton AND Montreal.
I want to see the $200 million spent on anything but this frivolous waste of money. Give it to the municipalities along the Richelieu River so that they can improve the water management systems there. Give it to the family doctors that don't stay in Quebec. Give it to the schools so they can have decent play yards and roofs that don't leak. Fix the 1-out-of-3 bridges and overpasses that are in danger of collapsing on our heads (or under our wheels). But for the love of everything good and decent, don't use it on an arena that will be built for nothing!!
Mme Senator, you say that you are embarrassed to live in Montreal, so please do Montreal a favor and move to Quebec City. The fact that you live in my city is an embarrassment to me. Your unwanted and irrelevant opinion is built upon a lie, and you insult those of us who have the three braincells left in our heads that are required to see it.
Article here.
(It pains me to be on the same as Amir Khadir on any issue. He's against the issue to attract attention to himself, period. However...)
Mme Senator wants to poop all over my opposition as though opposing the project is based on jealousy. As though Montrealers begrudge Quebec City for wanting the arena. That is simply bovine excrement.
I oppose the project because it is based on the outright lie that building the arena will magically make the Nordiques reappear in the city. Mr. Bettman has repeated time and time again that the NHL will not relocate a team to Quebec City just because they build a rink. So why the hell are we spending $200 million on a rink that will remain without a team? Hamilton learned the lesson, why does Quebec City ignore it?
Here are Gary's own words:
If there’s a new building, separate and independent from us, for whatever reason and the opportunity presents itself with respect to a franchise, it’s no different than what I said about Winnipeg. But we don’t want people building a building on our account, expecting that there’s going to be a franchise, because we’re not in the position to promise one right now.Via Hockey News
To be unambiguous: the supporters of this project need to stop lying. Stop lying to yourselves and others. Halting the construction of the arena does NOT put the return of the Nordiques to Quebec City in jeopardy. The Nordiques are NOT returning to Quebec City, so nothing can put the return in jeopardy. Stop deluding yourselves. It really begs the question: what part of Gary Bettman's statement to the fact that there is no planned return of an NHL franchise to QC-City, and that a new arena changes nothing about that non-plan, don't you understand?
Mme Senator wants to say that I should shut up and shell out my tax money for an unneeded rink because Montreal has the Big Owe. Memo to Mme Senator: I was 5 years old when that useless waste opened for the Olympics. I would gladly pack it up and send it to Quebec City: it is ugly, it is a waste of money and we spend waaaay too much time and resources on it. I don't want it and I never wanted it, so don't tell me to be somehow grateful for it like it's a huge source of pride. And it, too, sits empty and devoid of a professional team. So because Drapeau imposed this monstrosity upon Montrealers, we now have to put up with the fantasies of the latest ego-maniacal mayor, in the person of Régis Labaume, to put up YET ANOTHER useless sports arena that will overrun its budget, cost taxpayers more than it should, line the pockets of construction contractors over-charging because it's a government project and REMAIN EMPTY. And so they refuse to learn the lessons of both Hamilton AND Montreal.
I want to see the $200 million spent on anything but this frivolous waste of money. Give it to the municipalities along the Richelieu River so that they can improve the water management systems there. Give it to the family doctors that don't stay in Quebec. Give it to the schools so they can have decent play yards and roofs that don't leak. Fix the 1-out-of-3 bridges and overpasses that are in danger of collapsing on our heads (or under our wheels). But for the love of everything good and decent, don't use it on an arena that will be built for nothing!!
Mme Senator, you say that you are embarrassed to live in Montreal, so please do Montreal a favor and move to Quebec City. The fact that you live in my city is an embarrassment to me. Your unwanted and irrelevant opinion is built upon a lie, and you insult those of us who have the three braincells left in our heads that are required to see it.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Quebec's Folly
The morning news tells me that only Newfoundlanders pay more income tax than Quebecers. In Quebec, the average citizen pays 44% in income tax.
The morning news also tells me that the education system is broken, and instead of failing students that don't make the grade, we lower standards in order to allow them to pass (and I'm supposed to send my child to public school?).
Also on the morning news, the average wait time in Quebec's ERs is 12 or more hours.
The morning news also tells me that Régis Labaume in Quebec City wants a new arena, and that this new arena will magically make an NHL team move to QC-City. Gay Bettman says that building a new arena will NOT change a fig and that there is no promise or guarantee that an NHL team will ever return to the city. The Quebec assembly is bogged down in debate over a law that would allow Quebecor to...
Long story short : schools are crap, hospitals are crap, I pay too much in income tax without getting basic services in return, and the province is wasting time and money debating about bending over and paying out $200 MILLION DOLLARS so Quebec City can build an arena that Bettman tells us will remain empty.
I can't be the only one that thinks this is stupid.
Well, note to Quebec City: you obviously don't need my tourist dollars since the province shells out my money to you every time you want to put together a festival, event or unneeded civic building. Quebec City, you will not see my face nor my money in your city again.
The morning news also tells me that the education system is broken, and instead of failing students that don't make the grade, we lower standards in order to allow them to pass (and I'm supposed to send my child to public school?).
Also on the morning news, the average wait time in Quebec's ERs is 12 or more hours.
The morning news also tells me that Régis Labaume in Quebec City wants a new arena, and that this new arena will magically make an NHL team move to QC-City. Gay Bettman says that building a new arena will NOT change a fig and that there is no promise or guarantee that an NHL team will ever return to the city. The Quebec assembly is bogged down in debate over a law that would allow Quebecor to...
Long story short : schools are crap, hospitals are crap, I pay too much in income tax without getting basic services in return, and the province is wasting time and money debating about bending over and paying out $200 MILLION DOLLARS so Quebec City can build an arena that Bettman tells us will remain empty.
I can't be the only one that thinks this is stupid.
Well, note to Quebec City: you obviously don't need my tourist dollars since the province shells out my money to you every time you want to put together a festival, event or unneeded civic building. Quebec City, you will not see my face nor my money in your city again.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Signs, signs, everywhere, signs
Not the most original title, I'll admit. Still...
The Metropolitain (west of the 25) and Highway 40 (east of the 25) is becoming completely overrun with billboards, with the newest trend being the addition of those super-bright and super-annoying electronic billboards, and the increase has been somewhat insidious. It started with just a few, and today there seems to be one every 500 metres or less.
Was the east along Highway 40 not already ugly and blighted enough by the refineries and heavy industry? I guess the landscape was judged to be a waste anyway, so instead of aggressively planting trees and vegetation to keep the dust down and embellish the area and all of the other advantages that trees and veg bring, they made the area even uglier with huge, gaudy billboards. And then came electronic billboards. The next step will be to perch future billboards on higher and higher poles (like the 95 in South Carolina and Georgia), so that the lower signs lose out to the higher ones.
They are now to the point of being visual pollution, loud and invasive, with the electronic ones being especially dangerous because you can't help turn your eyes towards them while you're driving - especially at night. I feel like I'm living inside 'Minority Report' or 'Josie and the Pussycats'. I'm not usually a supporter of initiatives coming out of the Plateau, like parking bans and one-ways that try to keep people from ever entering or crossing the neighborhood and Amir Khadir, but I can't disagree with their attempts to ban billboards.
I expect a "Pedro dit: venez me voir! South of the Border - 1535km" sign to go up any day now.
(After writing this blog, I saw THIS in The Gazette. I guess I'm not the only one...)
The Metropolitain (west of the 25) and Highway 40 (east of the 25) is becoming completely overrun with billboards, with the newest trend being the addition of those super-bright and super-annoying electronic billboards, and the increase has been somewhat insidious. It started with just a few, and today there seems to be one every 500 metres or less.
Was the east along Highway 40 not already ugly and blighted enough by the refineries and heavy industry? I guess the landscape was judged to be a waste anyway, so instead of aggressively planting trees and vegetation to keep the dust down and embellish the area and all of the other advantages that trees and veg bring, they made the area even uglier with huge, gaudy billboards. And then came electronic billboards. The next step will be to perch future billboards on higher and higher poles (like the 95 in South Carolina and Georgia), so that the lower signs lose out to the higher ones.
They are now to the point of being visual pollution, loud and invasive, with the electronic ones being especially dangerous because you can't help turn your eyes towards them while you're driving - especially at night. I feel like I'm living inside 'Minority Report' or 'Josie and the Pussycats'. I'm not usually a supporter of initiatives coming out of the Plateau, like parking bans and one-ways that try to keep people from ever entering or crossing the neighborhood and Amir Khadir, but I can't disagree with their attempts to ban billboards.
I expect a "Pedro dit: venez me voir! South of the Border - 1535km" sign to go up any day now.
(After writing this blog, I saw THIS in The Gazette. I guess I'm not the only one...)
Monday, May 23, 2011
The psychology of trauma
It seems to be a busy time right now for nature-driven and man-made disasters. Nature is whipping the United States with tornado after tornado and with flooding on the Mississippi. In Canada, the Assiniboine and the Richelieu are flooding in record proportions, the northern forests of Alberta are burning, and there's been so much rain in Eastern Canada that we're seeing rare occurrences like land-slides. The volcanoes in Iceland and Italy are erupting, Japan just got slammed with a record earthquake and the tsunami, and the ground shook in Europe as well.
In the man-made area of global events, the Arab Spring is losing steam as despots and dictators dig in their heels and cling to power. Libya, Syria, Bahrain and Yemen are sending their armies out to shoot down students and mothers, they're making journalists and photographers disappear and they're blowing up villages from afar.
So far, 2011 is not going too great for a good number of very ordinary folk. No wonder that crackpot preacher thought the world was going to end last Saturday - he had enough going on in the world to match to any prophet's grocery list of events of impending doom. Floods, fire, earthquakes, brimstone, war, famine and the rising price of gas certainly sound like the perfect ingredients to put into a Rapture cake.
The events are also turning out to be Psychology's Christmas, because according to the psychologists, all of the people facing the myriad apocalyptic events thrown at humanity at the moment will be Traumatized. They are all, to the last person, likely to have Post Traumatic Stress and will all, to the last person, probably need counseling. The CBC ties into PTSD for the unfortunate victims of the flooding in Manitoba in this article. According to this take on things, first you face the initial 'impact phase', then comes the 'post-event phase' where you feel anger and helplessness, and then it's on to 'recovery' where you have to 'adjust to the new reality'. And then, you might possibly face PTSD, where you might get flashbacks or be hyper-vigilant.
I don't want to be flippant about what some people are facing at the moment, and I don't want to trivialize events, but having to move out of your home because of spring flooding when you live near a flood-prone river is not "trauma". In centuries past, that would be called "life". If you ask a mother in Yemen what she would call losing a daughter to a violent attack at the hands of a mob of men, and worrying about her son being killed in a protest, and not knowing where her next meal will come from, she might answer "Tuesday", not 'trauma'.
I think Western 'civilization' has been so spoiled, coddled and comfortable for the past 50-75 years that it has forgotten what real trauma really is, and it has listened too closely to Western psychologists trying to justify their existence by telling every one that every non-pleasant event in our lives is 'traumatic'. I call bullshit on most of the trauma that the psychologists shove in our faces with the complicit cooperation of the media. So here's my line in the sand on what I could accept to put a label of "trauma" on, and where I would have sympathy for people with PTSD:
- If you went to Iraq, Afghanistan, the Sudan, Darfur, Rwanda or another war-torn area where you learned what drying blood or burning human flesh smells like, you may say you have seen and known trauma. I cannot fathom being somewhere where your daily existence requires you to take the risk of being blown up or shot into consideration every moment of the day. I can even less imagine boarding a plane and, after a few hours, walking among people in Europe or North America who have nothing better to bitch about than traffic or the 'trauma' of grandma dying (in a clean hospital where she was cared for). That must be a total mind-fuck (use of profanity required here, there's no other way of expressing that).
- If you survived one of the last 2 tsunami events of the last 10 years, you know trauma. Whether witnessing the devastation, or actually being in the water, you have the right to the use of the word 'trauma' and I will respect your PTSD. This also applies to other sudden-onset, violent disasters like tornadoes. If you were in the Superdome in New Orleans, you have my respect. If you were knocked about in debris, if your loved ones were torn from your grasp, if you have sifted through rubble looking for the bodies of your parents or babies, if you have rushed to the scene of a flattened home, school or daycare looking for your children or spouse, you are legitimately traumatized.
You see, I think those types of events are shocking and traumatic. What I do not consider traumatic are the "shit happens" events of regular life that so many people want to use as fodder for bitching and complaining and moaning and garnering attention to themselves. Some examples:
- Death of an elderly family member, whether through natural causes or from disease. Sad? Of course. Does one need to mourn? Definitely. Is it trauma? No.
- Seeing a car accident happen to others. Upsetting? I agree. I would go home and have a stiff drink, hug my family, and sleep uneasily if I witnessed an accident causing death. Not at all pleasant. But PTSD? Um, no.
- Loss of material possessions. You are not traumatized because your car got trashed or because you need to replace a roof because a bad storm blew through town. This leaves me on the fence about the bad flooding referred to in the CBC article: you live near the river, it floods regularly, and it flooded so gradually that you had time to pack some necessities and get your family and dog out safely to a shelter where you have food and a bed. It sucks, it really does, and I'm so sorry you lost the afghan grandma made before she died and your wedding album... but shit happens. I just can't bring myself to elevate the icky-ness of a slow flood to the level of, say, hiding under the bodies of your schoolmates while mercenaries hack everyone around you down with machetes, or trying to hold on to your child while the black, cold waters of the ocean pulls him out of your arms when only 30 minutes before you were just trying to get him to do his homework.
I just wonder at what point the Western world took any and every unpleasant, uncomfortable, sad or unexpected event that causes stress, grief or changes to the status quo and decided that they were all "Trauma" that required one to seek counseling. Life happens, shit happens, and we all have to brush ourselves off and start things over again when it does. Getting on with it should not automatically require a therapy session. Especially when you worst 'trauma' would be somebody else's best day ever.
That's for the grown-ups. The subject of what the western world thinks is traumatic to a child is another blog for another time, but I'll give you a preview : it has nothing to do with a dying goldfish or moving to a new house.
In the man-made area of global events, the Arab Spring is losing steam as despots and dictators dig in their heels and cling to power. Libya, Syria, Bahrain and Yemen are sending their armies out to shoot down students and mothers, they're making journalists and photographers disappear and they're blowing up villages from afar.
So far, 2011 is not going too great for a good number of very ordinary folk. No wonder that crackpot preacher thought the world was going to end last Saturday - he had enough going on in the world to match to any prophet's grocery list of events of impending doom. Floods, fire, earthquakes, brimstone, war, famine and the rising price of gas certainly sound like the perfect ingredients to put into a Rapture cake.
The events are also turning out to be Psychology's Christmas, because according to the psychologists, all of the people facing the myriad apocalyptic events thrown at humanity at the moment will be Traumatized. They are all, to the last person, likely to have Post Traumatic Stress and will all, to the last person, probably need counseling. The CBC ties into PTSD for the unfortunate victims of the flooding in Manitoba in this article. According to this take on things, first you face the initial 'impact phase', then comes the 'post-event phase' where you feel anger and helplessness, and then it's on to 'recovery' where you have to 'adjust to the new reality'. And then, you might possibly face PTSD, where you might get flashbacks or be hyper-vigilant.
I don't want to be flippant about what some people are facing at the moment, and I don't want to trivialize events, but having to move out of your home because of spring flooding when you live near a flood-prone river is not "trauma". In centuries past, that would be called "life". If you ask a mother in Yemen what she would call losing a daughter to a violent attack at the hands of a mob of men, and worrying about her son being killed in a protest, and not knowing where her next meal will come from, she might answer "Tuesday", not 'trauma'.
I think Western 'civilization' has been so spoiled, coddled and comfortable for the past 50-75 years that it has forgotten what real trauma really is, and it has listened too closely to Western psychologists trying to justify their existence by telling every one that every non-pleasant event in our lives is 'traumatic'. I call bullshit on most of the trauma that the psychologists shove in our faces with the complicit cooperation of the media. So here's my line in the sand on what I could accept to put a label of "trauma" on, and where I would have sympathy for people with PTSD:
- If you went to Iraq, Afghanistan, the Sudan, Darfur, Rwanda or another war-torn area where you learned what drying blood or burning human flesh smells like, you may say you have seen and known trauma. I cannot fathom being somewhere where your daily existence requires you to take the risk of being blown up or shot into consideration every moment of the day. I can even less imagine boarding a plane and, after a few hours, walking among people in Europe or North America who have nothing better to bitch about than traffic or the 'trauma' of grandma dying (in a clean hospital where she was cared for). That must be a total mind-fuck (use of profanity required here, there's no other way of expressing that).
- If you survived one of the last 2 tsunami events of the last 10 years, you know trauma. Whether witnessing the devastation, or actually being in the water, you have the right to the use of the word 'trauma' and I will respect your PTSD. This also applies to other sudden-onset, violent disasters like tornadoes. If you were in the Superdome in New Orleans, you have my respect. If you were knocked about in debris, if your loved ones were torn from your grasp, if you have sifted through rubble looking for the bodies of your parents or babies, if you have rushed to the scene of a flattened home, school or daycare looking for your children or spouse, you are legitimately traumatized.
You see, I think those types of events are shocking and traumatic. What I do not consider traumatic are the "shit happens" events of regular life that so many people want to use as fodder for bitching and complaining and moaning and garnering attention to themselves. Some examples:
- Death of an elderly family member, whether through natural causes or from disease. Sad? Of course. Does one need to mourn? Definitely. Is it trauma? No.
- Seeing a car accident happen to others. Upsetting? I agree. I would go home and have a stiff drink, hug my family, and sleep uneasily if I witnessed an accident causing death. Not at all pleasant. But PTSD? Um, no.
- Loss of material possessions. You are not traumatized because your car got trashed or because you need to replace a roof because a bad storm blew through town. This leaves me on the fence about the bad flooding referred to in the CBC article: you live near the river, it floods regularly, and it flooded so gradually that you had time to pack some necessities and get your family and dog out safely to a shelter where you have food and a bed. It sucks, it really does, and I'm so sorry you lost the afghan grandma made before she died and your wedding album... but shit happens. I just can't bring myself to elevate the icky-ness of a slow flood to the level of, say, hiding under the bodies of your schoolmates while mercenaries hack everyone around you down with machetes, or trying to hold on to your child while the black, cold waters of the ocean pulls him out of your arms when only 30 minutes before you were just trying to get him to do his homework.
I just wonder at what point the Western world took any and every unpleasant, uncomfortable, sad or unexpected event that causes stress, grief or changes to the status quo and decided that they were all "Trauma" that required one to seek counseling. Life happens, shit happens, and we all have to brush ourselves off and start things over again when it does. Getting on with it should not automatically require a therapy session. Especially when you worst 'trauma' would be somebody else's best day ever.
That's for the grown-ups. The subject of what the western world thinks is traumatic to a child is another blog for another time, but I'll give you a preview : it has nothing to do with a dying goldfish or moving to a new house.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Unanswerable questions, Part 1
A man from the vulgar-rich layer of society is accused of attempted rape on a hotel maid. Is he still presumed innocent until proven guilty, or is he presumed guilty because he belongs to a group in society that thinks itself entitled to whatever it wants? Is he the victim of a plot, perpetrated by his enemies to discredit him and remove him from an equation where he was a variable?
His immigrant-poor accuser... is she an actual victim, or is she just another attention and money-seeking manipulator who is using the media and negative public opinion on vulgar-rich people to advance her own fortunes? Was she paid to make the accusation, or was she actually attacked by a rich, naked man in an expensive hotel suite?
Will we ever know the truth?
His immigrant-poor accuser... is she an actual victim, or is she just another attention and money-seeking manipulator who is using the media and negative public opinion on vulgar-rich people to advance her own fortunes? Was she paid to make the accusation, or was she actually attacked by a rich, naked man in an expensive hotel suite?
Will we ever know the truth?
Monday, May 16, 2011
Monstrosity is not mainstream
There's a criminal trial being held north of the city right now, a case of infanticide. A doctor, cast aside by his wife for another man, stabbed his two very young children to death and then drank washer fluid. Aside from the fact that the man is a doctor, it's a story we've heard too many times and in too many places.
There are a few extra details that are being published and discussed following the testimony of the defendant and others at his trial that we're supposed to consider in addition to the more familiar facts. On the night of the murders, this father went to the video store with his kids, rented some tapes and went home to watch them with his children. He claims to have put them to bed early because they had activities planned the next day. He then went to his computer to re-read e-mails between his ex-wife and her new boyfriend (forwarded to him by the boyfriend's Ex - for what reason we don't know). After realizing that he and his Ex had never shared the kind of intense love that she now shared with her new guy, the kind doctor decides to commit suicide, researching methods of suicide on the internet (reminder: he's a DOCTOR). After settling on washer fluid for it's slow, painless effects, he decides he does not want his children to discover his body (because that would be, you know, too cruel), so he proceeds to get a knife and stab both of them to death. We discover during his testimony that his son begged him to stop.
Has your stomach turned yet? Because according to the media campaign his lawyers are spinning, it shouldn't. Even the much-read Pierre Foglia (Le monstre) thinks that this doctor and his deranged, selfish act are just a thin line away from what you and I are capable of. The story is that we've all been through heartbreak and bad breakups, and there isn't much separating us from the poor, heartbroken doctor. We all have the doc's monster in us, the only difference is that his got out.
To paraphrase another columnist, the angels weep while the devil receives pity. Martineau - see May 14, "Pauvre monstre"
Guy Turcotte is a horror, an abomination. This man, who swore to 'first, do no harm' violently stabbed his own son and daughter because he could not accept that he was left by his wife for another man, a man she seemed to love more than him. This man, after making the unthinkable decision to end his children's lives, had the knowledge and access to means that would have sent them softly and gently into sleep, but choose instead to stab them repeatedly, plunging his kitchen knife into their tiny bodies while his son asked daddy to stop hurting him. And he then drank a concoction that he knew would cause a coma and slow death, sparing himself the painful death that he inflicted upon his babies, and ultimately giving others the time to discover and save him before the fluid took his life.
This supposedly intelligent man, with education and access and means to find psychological and emotional support to get him through the break-up, tries to explain that he stabbed his children in order to spare them the pain of discovering his body. And then botches his own death, with claims that he no longer wanted to live.
How dare anyone compare any ordinary person to this viciously deranged monster? With a 'divorce' rate of about 50% in North America, millions of couples break apart and go their separate ways. Thousands of those have messy break-ups. But they don't come even close to stabbing their babies as a result of those break-ups. To even suggest that the millions of loving fathers out there harbor the monster that this man had in him inside their own hearts, and they are a fine line from committing the evil act of murder this man committed, is revolting. My husband, my brother, and the other fathers in my life would NEVER harm their precious children, no matter the circumstance between themselves and the mothers of those children. I am insulted by the insinuation that they or anyone else in any way would come close to harming their kids under any circumstance.
Mr. Turcotte (he is undeserving of the title of doctor) is not "every man". I do not recognize myself or anyone I know in him. His choices and acts are to be rejected, not explained away with excuses of love, passion and heartbreak. His monstrosity is NOT mainstream.
There are a few extra details that are being published and discussed following the testimony of the defendant and others at his trial that we're supposed to consider in addition to the more familiar facts. On the night of the murders, this father went to the video store with his kids, rented some tapes and went home to watch them with his children. He claims to have put them to bed early because they had activities planned the next day. He then went to his computer to re-read e-mails between his ex-wife and her new boyfriend (forwarded to him by the boyfriend's Ex - for what reason we don't know). After realizing that he and his Ex had never shared the kind of intense love that she now shared with her new guy, the kind doctor decides to commit suicide, researching methods of suicide on the internet (reminder: he's a DOCTOR). After settling on washer fluid for it's slow, painless effects, he decides he does not want his children to discover his body (because that would be, you know, too cruel), so he proceeds to get a knife and stab both of them to death. We discover during his testimony that his son begged him to stop.
Has your stomach turned yet? Because according to the media campaign his lawyers are spinning, it shouldn't. Even the much-read Pierre Foglia (Le monstre) thinks that this doctor and his deranged, selfish act are just a thin line away from what you and I are capable of. The story is that we've all been through heartbreak and bad breakups, and there isn't much separating us from the poor, heartbroken doctor. We all have the doc's monster in us, the only difference is that his got out.
To paraphrase another columnist, the angels weep while the devil receives pity. Martineau - see May 14, "Pauvre monstre"
Guy Turcotte is a horror, an abomination. This man, who swore to 'first, do no harm' violently stabbed his own son and daughter because he could not accept that he was left by his wife for another man, a man she seemed to love more than him. This man, after making the unthinkable decision to end his children's lives, had the knowledge and access to means that would have sent them softly and gently into sleep, but choose instead to stab them repeatedly, plunging his kitchen knife into their tiny bodies while his son asked daddy to stop hurting him. And he then drank a concoction that he knew would cause a coma and slow death, sparing himself the painful death that he inflicted upon his babies, and ultimately giving others the time to discover and save him before the fluid took his life.
This supposedly intelligent man, with education and access and means to find psychological and emotional support to get him through the break-up, tries to explain that he stabbed his children in order to spare them the pain of discovering his body. And then botches his own death, with claims that he no longer wanted to live.
How dare anyone compare any ordinary person to this viciously deranged monster? With a 'divorce' rate of about 50% in North America, millions of couples break apart and go their separate ways. Thousands of those have messy break-ups. But they don't come even close to stabbing their babies as a result of those break-ups. To even suggest that the millions of loving fathers out there harbor the monster that this man had in him inside their own hearts, and they are a fine line from committing the evil act of murder this man committed, is revolting. My husband, my brother, and the other fathers in my life would NEVER harm their precious children, no matter the circumstance between themselves and the mothers of those children. I am insulted by the insinuation that they or anyone else in any way would come close to harming their kids under any circumstance.
Mr. Turcotte (he is undeserving of the title of doctor) is not "every man". I do not recognize myself or anyone I know in him. His choices and acts are to be rejected, not explained away with excuses of love, passion and heartbreak. His monstrosity is NOT mainstream.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Who's driving this thing, anyway?
Clement wants oil industry to explain
Click the link to read the full article.
Federal Minister of Industry will call Big Oil to the principal's office because he and the rest of the idiots running the country don't really know how Big Oil sets the price of gas. Uh, you guys don't know how they set the price of gas? You really, really don't?
And you want to allow the market to continue doing what it does, despite the fact that you are admitting that you don't really know what it does. Brilliant! Stupendous work.
I have to find a good 'facepalm' jpeg to use in these situations...
And then, this nugget: ""Governments should not be regulating markets, Flaherty said. “That's a sure way to make sure the market doesn't work."" Yeah, because the oil market "works" super well right now for, um, the oil market? And the last time I checked, it was the government regulation of the bank industry which avoided Canada the whole mortgage debacle that helped us limit the damages due to the financial meltdown... you know, the averted disaster that Harper brags about?
Listen, Dear Leader Harper: I have a 6-month-old, I can smell poo from 2 rooms away. Your government needs a diaper change...
Click the link to read the full article.
Federal Minister of Industry will call Big Oil to the principal's office because he and the rest of the idiots running the country don't really know how Big Oil sets the price of gas. Uh, you guys don't know how they set the price of gas? You really, really don't?
And you want to allow the market to continue doing what it does, despite the fact that you are admitting that you don't really know what it does. Brilliant! Stupendous work.
I have to find a good 'facepalm' jpeg to use in these situations...
And then, this nugget: ""Governments should not be regulating markets, Flaherty said. “That's a sure way to make sure the market doesn't work."" Yeah, because the oil market "works" super well right now for, um, the oil market? And the last time I checked, it was the government regulation of the bank industry which avoided Canada the whole mortgage debacle that helped us limit the damages due to the financial meltdown... you know, the averted disaster that Harper brags about?
Listen, Dear Leader Harper: I have a 6-month-old, I can smell poo from 2 rooms away. Your government needs a diaper change...
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Dear Jack: Noooooooooooo!
Congratulations on your victory in the last election! After being labeled the 'right driver in the wrong car' for all of these years, you finally turned the tides (at least in Quebec) and got enough of your people voted in to allow you to become the leader of the opposition. This, despite my voting for a candidate from another party in my riding, is something I see as a potentially Good Thing overall. Not to mention the fact that the stricken, shocked and confused faces over at BQ headquarters made me positively gleeful.
In the days following the election, I awaited your first statements. Those first statements would set the tone for at least the front half of your reign as the Leader of the Official Opposition. I was really looking forward to hear which of Harper's vulnerable points you would hit the hardest and the most often (because that's all you CAN do, really), and hitting those points would allow you to be the 'voice of the people' you have claimed to be. Here comes Jack, he knows what we're pissed about the most (other than being pissed at central Ontario for giving Harper a friggen majority).
And one of the first things you talked about was... the Constitution? Wait. What?
You mean to tell me that you and your handlers do not realize that talk about the constitution and/or sovereignty issues and/or looking backwards is EXACTLY what got the BQ so roundly kicked in the ass, thereby opening the door to you and your brigade of students and activists? You don't realize that the more Duceppe and the BQ pounded on the sovereignty nail, and the more they paraded around old, rusty, crusty battle-axes feebly screeching 'separate!', the more they made their own irrelevance obvious, and the more people decided to tick whatever name was beside the letters 'N', 'D', and 'P'? And so you decided to stir up the mucky riverbed of constitutional issues, just when the damn water was starting to clear a little?
Allow this arm-chair, keyboard-wielding amateur to tell you a few things that your entourage of professionals don't seem to be making very clear to you (because I refuse to think that they don't know this...).
1. People did not vote for local candidates. They voted along party lines. They didn't vote for the Vegas Candidate, they just 'Voted For Jack'. A monkey could have been used as a face on a campaign sign and it wouldn't have made a lick of difference. People in Quebec are tired of backwards-looking and backwards-thinking candidates that are mired somewhere back in 1992. They voted for YOU. Smarten up and be more careful about what comes out of your mouth. And while I'm at it, Mr. Experienced Mulcair needs to back off on Bin-Laden-Isn't-Dead conspiracy theories if you're going to attempt to retain credibility for your party, but I digress...
2. If the Canadian electoral system weren't broken, you'd be Prime Minister, but the House of Commons would be a pot-pourri of MPs from across the different parties. Because if you want Jack as PM, you have to vote for the local monkey with the letters 'NDP' next to their name even if that monkey was off campaigning in Vegas, or holed up in the McGill ghetto somewhere studying for the PoliSci final. This reality makes you even more important - you ARE your party, at this point. So watch your mouth and focus on important things.
I want to be clear on one thing: I do not have a problem with young or inexperienced candidates wanting to throw their hats in the ring and trying (and succeeding) in getting elected. The Fat White Men in Suits who run things need to be kicked in the teeth every once in a while by the People. New people that go around questioning the status quo, asking why the same old inefficient and corrupt goings-on continue to go on, is a Good Thing. But it's only a good thing if the young gun ran a campaign, convinced his constituents that s/he was a better candidate, and got voted in with the expectation that, if elected, s/he would be off to Ottawa and would go gladly. A bunch of these newly-minted MPs expected to be place-holders, a face to put on an NDP campaign poster that fully expected to lose their elections and go on with their regular lives, using the experience as something that looks good on a resume. I just hope this crop of unexpectedly-elected will take advantage of the big fat gift they've been given and do something good with it.
But back to Jack... What are the important things you should be talking about? Oh, look, it's the start of a new list...
1. Gas, gas, gas, Jumping Jack Flash. Today is Tuesday, which everyone knows is gas-price-hike day. The day that the criminally greedy fat cats at the oil companies make trillions in profit just by sending out an email to gas stations that reads, "It's Tuesday, you know what to do." You should be the pissed-off voice of all Canadians (including the morons that gave Harper his majority) about the price of gas. My closest gas station is selling the stuff at close to $1.45 per liter today: so ask me again if I give a rat's ass about the friggen constitution. Here's what you should do: every Monday, you stand in front of which ever is the closest gas station to you, and you say, "When the price of gas goes up tomorrow morning - and we all know tomorrow is Tuesday and the prices will go up - I would like for you to help me hold PM Harper accountable by sending his office emails and by calling his phone lines, asking why he does nothing to help regular Canadians, working people and families and small business owners, be able to buy affordable, Canadian-made gas." Then you say, "Taxes collected from the sale of the currently over-priced gas should be invested into reliable, efficient, safe and clean public transportation, and into developing Canadian-made alternatives to gas that we will then be able to sell to the world." You do that, and you'll win the next election.
2. I, along with thousands of other Canadians, would really like to have a family doctor. Anyone qualified will do: male or female, recognized as an MD, born here or elsewhere... as long as I can get an appointment within, say, 8 weeks, and actually get a checkup and a few tests done to make sure I'm doing alright. The Constitution does not make family doctors magically appear and take on new patients. The Constitution does not perform pap smears and breast exams, does not check my blood pressure and cholesterol levels and cannot tell me if that mole I don't like the look of should be looked into further. The Constitution is far, far, far down on my list of priorities right now and every time it is mentioned, my blood pressure goes up and I swear I will never vote for you as long as you keep bringing it up, so we're both worse off than we were before. You need to talk about the doctors and moldy hospitals that we have to line up to get into, and make it Harper's fault - he wants to buy fighter jets while Grandma's melanoma goes undetected, oh the travesty. Because it IS a travesty.
3. Anything else BUT the Constitution. The economy, employment insurance, job creation, small business, schools and higher education, the aging population and the financial and emotional strain it puts on younger people... talk about any issue EXCEPT the constitution (and language issues) and I will lend you my ear. But I promise you, I will shut down, take my ball, and go home if you keep ripping the scab off of the wounds of sovereignty. I can't take any more hot air about referendums and the constitution. I. Just. Can't. The BQ is comatose, the PQ is fizzling and sputtering, and there's finally a glimmer of hope that people here are accepting the inevitable dominance of English in the world, that they understand that the rise of English is not a plot against them that they need to take personally and that they can live and thrive in French without isolating themselves into a banana republic, and what do you do? You tote out the C-word. Stop it. No, really. Just... stop it!
It's going to be a long and depressing four years with Harper at the helm. I am worried, depressed and ashamed to have him as the leader of my beloved country. Much as some reasonable Americans contemplated moving here during the Bush Reign, I wondered if I could move to live under the reign of President Obama instead of here, with Harper. The Republican Tea-Party changed my mind back for me, but that doesn't make me any happier to have Harper. What would make me happy would be an official opposition that actually sounds and behaves like they oppose Harper and his ilk WITHOUT having to hear about the Constitution. If people wanted that, they would have stuck with the has-beens at the BQ. YOU got the votes, now stop beating a dead horse.
In the days following the election, I awaited your first statements. Those first statements would set the tone for at least the front half of your reign as the Leader of the Official Opposition. I was really looking forward to hear which of Harper's vulnerable points you would hit the hardest and the most often (because that's all you CAN do, really), and hitting those points would allow you to be the 'voice of the people' you have claimed to be. Here comes Jack, he knows what we're pissed about the most (other than being pissed at central Ontario for giving Harper a friggen majority).
And one of the first things you talked about was... the Constitution? Wait. What?
You mean to tell me that you and your handlers do not realize that talk about the constitution and/or sovereignty issues and/or looking backwards is EXACTLY what got the BQ so roundly kicked in the ass, thereby opening the door to you and your brigade of students and activists? You don't realize that the more Duceppe and the BQ pounded on the sovereignty nail, and the more they paraded around old, rusty, crusty battle-axes feebly screeching 'separate!', the more they made their own irrelevance obvious, and the more people decided to tick whatever name was beside the letters 'N', 'D', and 'P'? And so you decided to stir up the mucky riverbed of constitutional issues, just when the damn water was starting to clear a little?
Allow this arm-chair, keyboard-wielding amateur to tell you a few things that your entourage of professionals don't seem to be making very clear to you (because I refuse to think that they don't know this...).
1. People did not vote for local candidates. They voted along party lines. They didn't vote for the Vegas Candidate, they just 'Voted For Jack'. A monkey could have been used as a face on a campaign sign and it wouldn't have made a lick of difference. People in Quebec are tired of backwards-looking and backwards-thinking candidates that are mired somewhere back in 1992. They voted for YOU. Smarten up and be more careful about what comes out of your mouth. And while I'm at it, Mr. Experienced Mulcair needs to back off on Bin-Laden-Isn't-Dead conspiracy theories if you're going to attempt to retain credibility for your party, but I digress...
2. If the Canadian electoral system weren't broken, you'd be Prime Minister, but the House of Commons would be a pot-pourri of MPs from across the different parties. Because if you want Jack as PM, you have to vote for the local monkey with the letters 'NDP' next to their name even if that monkey was off campaigning in Vegas, or holed up in the McGill ghetto somewhere studying for the PoliSci final. This reality makes you even more important - you ARE your party, at this point. So watch your mouth and focus on important things.
I want to be clear on one thing: I do not have a problem with young or inexperienced candidates wanting to throw their hats in the ring and trying (and succeeding) in getting elected. The Fat White Men in Suits who run things need to be kicked in the teeth every once in a while by the People. New people that go around questioning the status quo, asking why the same old inefficient and corrupt goings-on continue to go on, is a Good Thing. But it's only a good thing if the young gun ran a campaign, convinced his constituents that s/he was a better candidate, and got voted in with the expectation that, if elected, s/he would be off to Ottawa and would go gladly. A bunch of these newly-minted MPs expected to be place-holders, a face to put on an NDP campaign poster that fully expected to lose their elections and go on with their regular lives, using the experience as something that looks good on a resume. I just hope this crop of unexpectedly-elected will take advantage of the big fat gift they've been given and do something good with it.
But back to Jack... What are the important things you should be talking about? Oh, look, it's the start of a new list...
1. Gas, gas, gas, Jumping Jack Flash. Today is Tuesday, which everyone knows is gas-price-hike day. The day that the criminally greedy fat cats at the oil companies make trillions in profit just by sending out an email to gas stations that reads, "It's Tuesday, you know what to do." You should be the pissed-off voice of all Canadians (including the morons that gave Harper his majority) about the price of gas. My closest gas station is selling the stuff at close to $1.45 per liter today: so ask me again if I give a rat's ass about the friggen constitution. Here's what you should do: every Monday, you stand in front of which ever is the closest gas station to you, and you say, "When the price of gas goes up tomorrow morning - and we all know tomorrow is Tuesday and the prices will go up - I would like for you to help me hold PM Harper accountable by sending his office emails and by calling his phone lines, asking why he does nothing to help regular Canadians, working people and families and small business owners, be able to buy affordable, Canadian-made gas." Then you say, "Taxes collected from the sale of the currently over-priced gas should be invested into reliable, efficient, safe and clean public transportation, and into developing Canadian-made alternatives to gas that we will then be able to sell to the world." You do that, and you'll win the next election.
2. I, along with thousands of other Canadians, would really like to have a family doctor. Anyone qualified will do: male or female, recognized as an MD, born here or elsewhere... as long as I can get an appointment within, say, 8 weeks, and actually get a checkup and a few tests done to make sure I'm doing alright. The Constitution does not make family doctors magically appear and take on new patients. The Constitution does not perform pap smears and breast exams, does not check my blood pressure and cholesterol levels and cannot tell me if that mole I don't like the look of should be looked into further. The Constitution is far, far, far down on my list of priorities right now and every time it is mentioned, my blood pressure goes up and I swear I will never vote for you as long as you keep bringing it up, so we're both worse off than we were before. You need to talk about the doctors and moldy hospitals that we have to line up to get into, and make it Harper's fault - he wants to buy fighter jets while Grandma's melanoma goes undetected, oh the travesty. Because it IS a travesty.
3. Anything else BUT the Constitution. The economy, employment insurance, job creation, small business, schools and higher education, the aging population and the financial and emotional strain it puts on younger people... talk about any issue EXCEPT the constitution (and language issues) and I will lend you my ear. But I promise you, I will shut down, take my ball, and go home if you keep ripping the scab off of the wounds of sovereignty. I can't take any more hot air about referendums and the constitution. I. Just. Can't. The BQ is comatose, the PQ is fizzling and sputtering, and there's finally a glimmer of hope that people here are accepting the inevitable dominance of English in the world, that they understand that the rise of English is not a plot against them that they need to take personally and that they can live and thrive in French without isolating themselves into a banana republic, and what do you do? You tote out the C-word. Stop it. No, really. Just... stop it!
It's going to be a long and depressing four years with Harper at the helm. I am worried, depressed and ashamed to have him as the leader of my beloved country. Much as some reasonable Americans contemplated moving here during the Bush Reign, I wondered if I could move to live under the reign of President Obama instead of here, with Harper. The Republican Tea-Party changed my mind back for me, but that doesn't make me any happier to have Harper. What would make me happy would be an official opposition that actually sounds and behaves like they oppose Harper and his ilk WITHOUT having to hear about the Constitution. If people wanted that, they would have stuck with the has-beens at the BQ. YOU got the votes, now stop beating a dead horse.
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