I felt great today! So energetic and stable up stairs, like weights had been removed from my ankles which were actually bare in my cute sandals. I endured a lot of walking in the heat and it felt wonderful. I was with my friend who I hadn't seen in a year. We had lots of girly chats. I had a glass of white wine on a restaurant patio... In the afternoon! I don't think I'd ever had a drink during the day, no less in the sun, but why not? This was a special occasion. I love wine, but avoid it when wobbling, asthma or heart racing are or have recently been present. How lovely it is to not have to worry about these, to just enjoy because I want to. Because I'm 24 years old and I want to hang out with my friend. I made sure we clinked glasses (in hers was beer... ew!) to mark our reunion and my great health. It was a silent toast, though.
I like to keep quiet during happy moments like this one. I'm selfish. I want the happiness all to myself! Well, it's the introspection I want to keep to myself. The awareness that I couldn't possibly convey my happiness with words and gestures. Yes, I'm often happy to physically be with friends in silence or to listen to them talk mostly -- not that my friend dominated the conversation or anything. I talked of course. I expressed my amazement that we had graduated from York over a year ago and last seen each other around that time before her move to England.
We were down on The Beach, a neighborhood in Toronto named for its -- you guessed it -- beach and the cute village street behind it. So I had not only my friend's company to savour, but the sun and the kids and dogs that occupied the beach with great enthusiasm and joy.
And I felt that joy most intensely when a boy of probably seven ran up to me and hugged me. His mom had wound a toy balsam wood plane and accidentally shot it into the direction of me and my friend. She apologized. As I told her not to worry because I played with those planes as a child and thought they were very fun, I felt some rapid thumps approach me on the boardwalk, then the boy's two arms locked my body to his, his head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around him and asked him his name. Daniel. I told him my name. Ashley. I offered my hand and he shook it firmly. His mom said I had made a new friend. I couldn't think of truer words to describe that moment. I said maybe he thought I was someone he knew, but part of me hoped there was no mistake. This was love. I was sad when he left me and we walked away. I said goodbye to Daniel and his mom and brother. Seriously sad. I would probably never see him again. How often do you feel that connection? That love? Kids amaze me with their uncensored passion and zest for life, apparently never hesitant to share how they feel. It kind of makes me want to have kids one day.
I didn't say much with my friend and with Daniel. Both experiences were great in part because I felt little compulsion or reason to speak.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Fear
Today I spotted a bug fluttering on the water, ripples frantically escaping from its body. I immediately ran to the other side of the pool, careful not to trip over anything. I picked up the pool skimmer by the end of its long rod, leaned over my pool and scooped the little guy out. I had a good look at him up close. Some kind of ant with wings. I was relieved that it was alive. Why?
As far as I know, bugs can't feel pain. I don't even know if bugs really think. I just couldn't watch it struggle like that, so helpless and distressed. For years it has bothered me when people kill bugs for no reason besides fear or disgust. I think it's more the fear that bothers me. It's wrong to be so afraid of something that won't hurt you if you leave it alone. I'll definitely swat flies, moths, ants or wasps if they're in my house and I won't be able to get them outside because they're a major nuisance, might bite me in my sleep or eat crumbs and bring stuff back to a colony. And spiders! Don't get me started on spiders. They're so beautiful and fascinating.
I realize that most people are afraid of things for a reason. We play hypothetical scenarios in our head. We all take certain actions that make us feel secure like staying away from the railing or killing the wasp. I think it's fine to be afraid to a point, but how about fears whose intensity is unwarranted?
I'm thinking of myself right now. Because of my lifelong balance and co-ordination issues, I dislike any situation where I feel disconnected from the ground, like I refuse to learn to ride a bicycle and I don't like to be carried unless I can easily put my feet to the ground. I hate being upside down. You can see here that a feeling of self-control is essential to me. Of course we learn to control ourselves on roller blades and that kind of thing, but I don't want to. I feel unsteady and fatigued enough just having my feet on the ground. Standing or walking for long periods often makes me wobbly or I start tipping over.
Growing up I wasn't usually conscious of my waddling gait. I took ballet for eight years but I didn't love it and it just wasn't my cup of tea (also, I never practiced), Also, I just didn't have the balance and co-ordination to do the movements and postures gracefully. But I could absolutely do them. Without assistance. That's all I cared about. I just focused on doing the best that I could. That was good enough for me. My teacher helped me a lot and even modified my part of at least one recital dance so that I could do it.
Independence is still very important to me and I want to feel more secure. Over a year ago now, my balance and fatigue issues worsened. Once we ruled out a change in my brain, my internist and neurosurgeon hypothesized that my illness, or any weakened state in general, had caused my change in symptoms. No one could explain why these symptoms, which I've had for my whole life, are were now inconsistent: sometimes I'm very steady, strong and energetic, and other times my legs feel unsteady and weak. Through paying attention to my body I recently realized that endurance is my main issue. After a period of rest, most activities are very comfortable.
After standing or walking for more than between ten minutes or an hour, I start tipping. It's often not even visible to other people, but inside I'm working hard to keep my feet on the ground, devising stances to try to make myself steadier and to prepare myself in case I need to catch myself from a fall -- I often find myself averting this crisis.
Also, I feel myself waddle after walking for a while. I start off walking fast with my back straight. Then after ten minutes, I feel myself start to waddle like a duck. It's mild now and has been for years. A lot of people probably don't even notice it. Once the balance issues set in, I often walk in a minor zig-zag kind of path. If I'm walking with someone, I'll notice myself walking into them. I might tip over. My legs will fatigue -- sometimes to the point that feel like I'm carrying weights on my legs.
These are all reasons why I will get physical therapy. I've had the prescription for months, but put if off because I've felt weak or had asthma flare-up. There's also the procrastination. I'm nervous to ask for help. What if the physiotherapist doesn't agree that I need help? I mean, surely if my symptoms were significant they would be visible to people.
I'm feeling more secure in my decision to get PT: I have a cerebellum malformation; my internist and neurosurgeon both agreed that physiotherapy should help me; I feel like garbage regularly; symptoms that are intermittent and invisible can be just as significant as those that are constant; physical therapy may help me cope with these problems.
I recently found out about folding walking canes. These are for people (like me) who don't have good endurance, people whose symptoms show up after a period of activity. So you can have the cane folded and in your bag when you feel fine, but when you start to have problems, you can just whip it out and use it. This is great for me, as I have considered a cane before, but didn't want to get stuck using it if I didn't feel I need to. There are plenty of times when I can endure activity for hours without serious symptoms, but I usually can't predict how much activity I will be able to endure.
I've told several people about my feeling that I could benefit from a cane, mostly telling them about the insecurity I have about it: much of the time, my symptoms are invisible. I can dance and run during good periods, especially if I've only recently been on my feet, so what if people think I'm just using a cane for attention? Or what if the opposite happens? I don't want people to worry about me or worse: treat me like I'm delicate or that I can't or shouldn't do certain things. But everyone I've talked to has said who cares what anyone thinks; I know my own body and I should do what feels right. Such great friends I have!
Perhaps my PT will understand me. I had a session with this PT seven years ago for my neck. He's very nice and thorough. I've just been insecure about what other people think since my neurologist said if I go in to see a physical therapist, he will say "Why are you here?" implying that my issues are insignificant. I don't blame the neurologist. His examinations showed nothing and he didn't know much about my condition at all. He didn't understand the whole endurance problem -- hell, I didn't either!
As far as I know, bugs can't feel pain. I don't even know if bugs really think. I just couldn't watch it struggle like that, so helpless and distressed. For years it has bothered me when people kill bugs for no reason besides fear or disgust. I think it's more the fear that bothers me. It's wrong to be so afraid of something that won't hurt you if you leave it alone. I'll definitely swat flies, moths, ants or wasps if they're in my house and I won't be able to get them outside because they're a major nuisance, might bite me in my sleep or eat crumbs and bring stuff back to a colony. And spiders! Don't get me started on spiders. They're so beautiful and fascinating.
I realize that most people are afraid of things for a reason. We play hypothetical scenarios in our head. We all take certain actions that make us feel secure like staying away from the railing or killing the wasp. I think it's fine to be afraid to a point, but how about fears whose intensity is unwarranted?
I'm thinking of myself right now. Because of my lifelong balance and co-ordination issues, I dislike any situation where I feel disconnected from the ground, like I refuse to learn to ride a bicycle and I don't like to be carried unless I can easily put my feet to the ground. I hate being upside down. You can see here that a feeling of self-control is essential to me. Of course we learn to control ourselves on roller blades and that kind of thing, but I don't want to. I feel unsteady and fatigued enough just having my feet on the ground. Standing or walking for long periods often makes me wobbly or I start tipping over.
Growing up I wasn't usually conscious of my waddling gait. I took ballet for eight years but I didn't love it and it just wasn't my cup of tea (also, I never practiced), Also, I just didn't have the balance and co-ordination to do the movements and postures gracefully. But I could absolutely do them. Without assistance. That's all I cared about. I just focused on doing the best that I could. That was good enough for me. My teacher helped me a lot and even modified my part of at least one recital dance so that I could do it.
Independence is still very important to me and I want to feel more secure. Over a year ago now, my balance and fatigue issues worsened. Once we ruled out a change in my brain, my internist and neurosurgeon hypothesized that my illness, or any weakened state in general, had caused my change in symptoms. No one could explain why these symptoms, which I've had for my whole life, are were now inconsistent: sometimes I'm very steady, strong and energetic, and other times my legs feel unsteady and weak. Through paying attention to my body I recently realized that endurance is my main issue. After a period of rest, most activities are very comfortable.
After standing or walking for more than between ten minutes or an hour, I start tipping. It's often not even visible to other people, but inside I'm working hard to keep my feet on the ground, devising stances to try to make myself steadier and to prepare myself in case I need to catch myself from a fall -- I often find myself averting this crisis.
Also, I feel myself waddle after walking for a while. I start off walking fast with my back straight. Then after ten minutes, I feel myself start to waddle like a duck. It's mild now and has been for years. A lot of people probably don't even notice it. Once the balance issues set in, I often walk in a minor zig-zag kind of path. If I'm walking with someone, I'll notice myself walking into them. I might tip over. My legs will fatigue -- sometimes to the point that feel like I'm carrying weights on my legs.
These are all reasons why I will get physical therapy. I've had the prescription for months, but put if off because I've felt weak or had asthma flare-up. There's also the procrastination. I'm nervous to ask for help. What if the physiotherapist doesn't agree that I need help? I mean, surely if my symptoms were significant they would be visible to people.
I'm feeling more secure in my decision to get PT: I have a cerebellum malformation; my internist and neurosurgeon both agreed that physiotherapy should help me; I feel like garbage regularly; symptoms that are intermittent and invisible can be just as significant as those that are constant; physical therapy may help me cope with these problems.
I recently found out about folding walking canes. These are for people (like me) who don't have good endurance, people whose symptoms show up after a period of activity. So you can have the cane folded and in your bag when you feel fine, but when you start to have problems, you can just whip it out and use it. This is great for me, as I have considered a cane before, but didn't want to get stuck using it if I didn't feel I need to. There are plenty of times when I can endure activity for hours without serious symptoms, but I usually can't predict how much activity I will be able to endure.
I've told several people about my feeling that I could benefit from a cane, mostly telling them about the insecurity I have about it: much of the time, my symptoms are invisible. I can dance and run during good periods, especially if I've only recently been on my feet, so what if people think I'm just using a cane for attention? Or what if the opposite happens? I don't want people to worry about me or worse: treat me like I'm delicate or that I can't or shouldn't do certain things. But everyone I've talked to has said who cares what anyone thinks; I know my own body and I should do what feels right. Such great friends I have!
Perhaps my PT will understand me. I had a session with this PT seven years ago for my neck. He's very nice and thorough. I've just been insecure about what other people think since my neurologist said if I go in to see a physical therapist, he will say "Why are you here?" implying that my issues are insignificant. I don't blame the neurologist. His examinations showed nothing and he didn't know much about my condition at all. He didn't understand the whole endurance problem -- hell, I didn't either!
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Careers and Fashion
My former colleagues of my Corporate Communications program have been posting their internship acceptances as their statuses on Facebook. I am tres jealous! Instead of moping that I won't get to experience this excitement for about 9 months, I've decided to research institutions and organizations I may want to work for. I'm pretty sure I want to do something in the health field. These are my options: a charity that provides advocacy and support, a hospital or the government. Toronto has a huge selection of these things! Downtown Toronto alone there are at least five hospitals!
I want an employer who will consider hiring me after the internship, thus eliminating the need for a job search! Such a decision would make sense, as long as there is a budget for me. This is especially true of a charity who could really benefit from my skills, but may only have a budget to hire me part-time or on a contract basis, like for a specific project. I want to go where I am needed, but I also want secure, well paying work.
BUT, there is a part of me that wants an internship in the arts, something that could help attract attention to artists or provide opportunities for creative people and art fans to unite. Or work for a theatre or something! Toronto has a lot of opportunities for artists and people who want to enjoy art: we have many small and large theatres, we host a bunch of festivals like the Toronto International Film Festival, Hot Docs (documentary festival), the Beaches Jazz Festival (which is this weekend, I think!), etc. We also have the Art Gallery of Ontario and the Royal Ontario Museum. We have loads of concert halls where all sorts of artists, some more famous than others, come to perform all year round. I love music and theatre, so all of this really excites me.
Hey, I'm really selling Toronto, aren't I? Maybe I should work in travel and tourism! Haha. I just think it would be very fun and meaningful to support the arts and interview artists, observe their work and engage the public! I'm so excited! I have so many opportunities and I KNOW I will be great. My biggest obstacles are somewhat embarrassing: I have a lot of trouble with phones and photocopiers!
Well, on a serious note, I do have a more significant obstacle and I think anyone who reads this blog will know what it is: I tend to get sick a lot. I'm sure my current illness will be over nine months from now and who knows, maybe I'll be very healthy for a long time after that. If I have trouble with the physical aspects of an internship or get sick with other things, perhaps I will be able to work from home on occasion. I think this is a consideration I may need to take with an internship. I hope not, though. I really love people and I can't wait to work with them, commute every day, dress up every day and wear make up! Yes, ever since I put on make up for my cousin's wedding a few weeks ago, I've been excited to wear it again. Not now because I'm at home resting in my pajamas most of the time.
I used to wear it regularly in grade 8 and 9. I wore concealer, blush, lipstick, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara -- the works. It made me feel older and I thought it made me look prettier. Then, I think in grade 10 sometime, I completely stopped wearing it. I started dressing really sloppily too and often didn't pluck my eyebrows. I often didn't do my hair either.
I haven't really worn make-up since then, except rarely for special occasions. Now I want to feel glamorous again! I think I'll probably only just wear eye liner and mascara with some lip gloss or something like that. I don't want to bother with eye shadow because I have greasy eye lids and the fatty bits under my eyebrows cover most of my eye lids anyway. So most of the eye shadow comes off. To avoid having mere flakes of eye shadow on my lids, or more on one lid than the other, I'll have to keep reapplying it. I won't bother with lipstick because my lower lip kind of swallows my thinner upper lip when my mouth is closed. I don't want to accentuate that! I may wear blush, though because I have defined cheek bones and jaw lines. I love them! I don't think I'll ever wear concealer again, though. It just looks stupid! Plus, I'm not ashamed of my pimples!
That reminds me. On my birthday I went shopping with my mom who stopped at a kiosk to look for a cream she liked. Well, the overzealous sales woman asked what I used for my acne in this mournful voice, like it was an affliction. It really made me mad. Also, over a year ago I saw a dermatologist about some moles and she wrote me a prescription for acne cream without my even mentioning my acne! It bothered me that she noticed my acne, but then I thought: she's a dermatologist. Of course she noticed!
So much of the beauty industry is built on making women feel ashamed or insecure or finding solutions for aspects of appearance fashion gurus and many women deem undesirable, like acne, a short stature, small breasts, large thighs, etc. It's terrible. It shouldn't be a fashion faux pas for a short person to wear flats instead of heels. (I'm talking to you, Stacy and Clinton from What Not to Wear!)
And speaking of fashi
on, after about a two month break, I decided to clean my glasses and wear them before sitting down to write this entry. I've been getting the drunk vision again and having trouble maintaining focus. I don't really mind, though. These prism lenses really help make everything look sharper. Besides, I love wearing glasses. I think they suit me and make me appear older. I'm going for the sexy librarian look.
I want an employer who will consider hiring me after the internship, thus eliminating the need for a job search! Such a decision would make sense, as long as there is a budget for me. This is especially true of a charity who could really benefit from my skills, but may only have a budget to hire me part-time or on a contract basis, like for a specific project. I want to go where I am needed, but I also want secure, well paying work.
BUT, there is a part of me that wants an internship in the arts, something that could help attract attention to artists or provide opportunities for creative people and art fans to unite. Or work for a theatre or something! Toronto has a lot of opportunities for artists and people who want to enjoy art: we have many small and large theatres, we host a bunch of festivals like the Toronto International Film Festival, Hot Docs (documentary festival), the Beaches Jazz Festival (which is this weekend, I think!), etc. We also have the Art Gallery of Ontario and the Royal Ontario Museum. We have loads of concert halls where all sorts of artists, some more famous than others, come to perform all year round. I love music and theatre, so all of this really excites me.
Hey, I'm really selling Toronto, aren't I? Maybe I should work in travel and tourism! Haha. I just think it would be very fun and meaningful to support the arts and interview artists, observe their work and engage the public! I'm so excited! I have so many opportunities and I KNOW I will be great. My biggest obstacles are somewhat embarrassing: I have a lot of trouble with phones and photocopiers!
Well, on a serious note, I do have a more significant obstacle and I think anyone who reads this blog will know what it is: I tend to get sick a lot. I'm sure my current illness will be over nine months from now and who knows, maybe I'll be very healthy for a long time after that. If I have trouble with the physical aspects of an internship or get sick with other things, perhaps I will be able to work from home on occasion. I think this is a consideration I may need to take with an internship. I hope not, though. I really love people and I can't wait to work with them, commute every day, dress up every day and wear make up! Yes, ever since I put on make up for my cousin's wedding a few weeks ago, I've been excited to wear it again. Not now because I'm at home resting in my pajamas most of the time.
I used to wear it regularly in grade 8 and 9. I wore concealer, blush, lipstick, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara -- the works. It made me feel older and I thought it made me look prettier. Then, I think in grade 10 sometime, I completely stopped wearing it. I started dressing really sloppily too and often didn't pluck my eyebrows. I often didn't do my hair either.
I haven't really worn make-up since then, except rarely for special occasions. Now I want to feel glamorous again! I think I'll probably only just wear eye liner and mascara with some lip gloss or something like that. I don't want to bother with eye shadow because I have greasy eye lids and the fatty bits under my eyebrows cover most of my eye lids anyway. So most of the eye shadow comes off. To avoid having mere flakes of eye shadow on my lids, or more on one lid than the other, I'll have to keep reapplying it. I won't bother with lipstick because my lower lip kind of swallows my thinner upper lip when my mouth is closed. I don't want to accentuate that! I may wear blush, though because I have defined cheek bones and jaw lines. I love them! I don't think I'll ever wear concealer again, though. It just looks stupid! Plus, I'm not ashamed of my pimples!
That reminds me. On my birthday I went shopping with my mom who stopped at a kiosk to look for a cream she liked. Well, the overzealous sales woman asked what I used for my acne in this mournful voice, like it was an affliction. It really made me mad. Also, over a year ago I saw a dermatologist about some moles and she wrote me a prescription for acne cream without my even mentioning my acne! It bothered me that she noticed my acne, but then I thought: she's a dermatologist. Of course she noticed!
So much of the beauty industry is built on making women feel ashamed or insecure or finding solutions for aspects of appearance fashion gurus and many women deem undesirable, like acne, a short stature, small breasts, large thighs, etc. It's terrible. It shouldn't be a fashion faux pas for a short person to wear flats instead of heels. (I'm talking to you, Stacy and Clinton from What Not to Wear!)
And speaking of fashi
on, after about a two month break, I decided to clean my glasses and wear them before sitting down to write this entry. I've been getting the drunk vision again and having trouble maintaining focus. I don't really mind, though. These prism lenses really help make everything look sharper. Besides, I love wearing glasses. I think they suit me and make me appear older. I'm going for the sexy librarian look.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Gone to the Dogs
Today I awoke to blinding sunlight from the windows in the hall (skylight, I curse you!) and the whoosh of my mom's giant fan. She had opened the door to let the air circulate, as no air seems to come from the vent in her bedroom. I'm not terribly certain that opening my door will give her more access to the air, but maybe that's just because I'm annoyed with the lack of privacy and also from having my sleep disturbed.
I was so frustrated I actually cried! Yes. I blame the sleep deprivation. I'm often nocturnal, remember? Also it took me like two hours to get to sleep. Longer than usual. NOT ENOUGH SLEEP MAKES ASHLEY CRANKY! But joking aside, my sadness was about more than the lack of sleep. My mom told me I shouldn't be in bed at 9 am anyway. What??! Even if I had gone to bed early, I would have had every reason to still be in bed! That's partly why I'm still not working! I need to rest! Seriously, I tire often and I need a lot of sleep to feel decent.
For two weeks now, I've been feeling pretty good with a lot of sleep, but I won't get a job -- at least not yet. I have ups and downs. It's pretty normal for me to have a couple of weeks of wellness like I am having now and then to feel terrifically bad for a long time, or at least have intermittent periods of badness that are unpredictable in their rhythm, frequency and duration. So I can't say: "I can work Monday, Wednesday and Friday because I'll be fine with a day of rest between days of work," especially because I often need even more rest and become even more symptomatic when I'm active. So I really don't know what to do.
I don't mind sitting on my bum most of the time because it helps me feel better and is certainly my best option when I'm not doing well. But I do hate telling people that I'm currently not working or in school. Just living with my parents. I don't think I come off as a low-life, though, because I tell them I was just in grad school and will go back next year. That changes the subject from illness to public relations. Don't get me wrong, it feels great to vent about everything, but I often want a break from it when I'm out. Especially if I'm feeling good. At an art show a good friend of mine had, I think I only told one person why I was at home, partly because I just didn't want to talk about it and didn't want to deal with the sympathy, shock or wonderment at my "good period." I was happy to be my spunky self, joking around and sharing my love and admiration for my friend with important people in her life.
Anyway, back to today. At 11:30, I went across the street to let the Great Danes out and hang out with them for an hour. It's a sweet gig, but they weren't behaving: the blue Dane wouldn't stop eating grass and the black Dane wouldn't get out of the sun. So I made them go inside to their beds. Get this: they each have their own little mattress! Such nice dog owners they have.
They usual go to their beds after they go inside. So I sit with them and pet them for a bit. Then they seem to get bored of me. So this time I decided to read the Readers Digest to them. the black Dane grumbled when I read the comments section, so I skipped the joke section. I read them an article on Michael J. Fox who talked about learning to be happy despite having Parkinsons. Now, I'm anti self-help books because I find they give useless or cliched common sense advice, but Michael really has a good perspective and he managed to share it without lecturing. His thoughts about learning about your condition to understand how to manage it resonated with me. I enjoyed reading the article, especially aloud, but I can't speak for the dogs.
I was so frustrated I actually cried! Yes. I blame the sleep deprivation. I'm often nocturnal, remember? Also it took me like two hours to get to sleep. Longer than usual. NOT ENOUGH SLEEP MAKES ASHLEY CRANKY! But joking aside, my sadness was about more than the lack of sleep. My mom told me I shouldn't be in bed at 9 am anyway. What??! Even if I had gone to bed early, I would have had every reason to still be in bed! That's partly why I'm still not working! I need to rest! Seriously, I tire often and I need a lot of sleep to feel decent.
For two weeks now, I've been feeling pretty good with a lot of sleep, but I won't get a job -- at least not yet. I have ups and downs. It's pretty normal for me to have a couple of weeks of wellness like I am having now and then to feel terrifically bad for a long time, or at least have intermittent periods of badness that are unpredictable in their rhythm, frequency and duration. So I can't say: "I can work Monday, Wednesday and Friday because I'll be fine with a day of rest between days of work," especially because I often need even more rest and become even more symptomatic when I'm active. So I really don't know what to do.
I don't mind sitting on my bum most of the time because it helps me feel better and is certainly my best option when I'm not doing well. But I do hate telling people that I'm currently not working or in school. Just living with my parents. I don't think I come off as a low-life, though, because I tell them I was just in grad school and will go back next year. That changes the subject from illness to public relations. Don't get me wrong, it feels great to vent about everything, but I often want a break from it when I'm out. Especially if I'm feeling good. At an art show a good friend of mine had, I think I only told one person why I was at home, partly because I just didn't want to talk about it and didn't want to deal with the sympathy, shock or wonderment at my "good period." I was happy to be my spunky self, joking around and sharing my love and admiration for my friend with important people in her life.
Anyway, back to today. At 11:30, I went across the street to let the Great Danes out and hang out with them for an hour. It's a sweet gig, but they weren't behaving: the blue Dane wouldn't stop eating grass and the black Dane wouldn't get out of the sun. So I made them go inside to their beds. Get this: they each have their own little mattress! Such nice dog owners they have.
They usual go to their beds after they go inside. So I sit with them and pet them for a bit. Then they seem to get bored of me. So this time I decided to read the Readers Digest to them. the black Dane grumbled when I read the comments section, so I skipped the joke section. I read them an article on Michael J. Fox who talked about learning to be happy despite having Parkinsons. Now, I'm anti self-help books because I find they give useless or cliched common sense advice, but Michael really has a good perspective and he managed to share it without lecturing. His thoughts about learning about your condition to understand how to manage it resonated with me. I enjoyed reading the article, especially aloud, but I can't speak for the dogs.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Birds Chirp. I type.
I. Can't. Sleep.
I blame it on sleeping so much so often for so long that now that I'm better my body is boycotting sleep. Maybe. I haven't really been able to get to sleep until I've been very tired. It's 6 am and I think that time has come... BUT the thing is. When I do fall asleep, it will be for a long time or I will need a nap soon. I find I need a lot of sleep to feel good and strong. Something tells me that I will read this post tomorrow and be disappointed in the writing, or I will find typos or grammatical errors. I think I'm too hard on myself sometimes. BUT I think being tired gives me the excuse I want for not liking my writing tonight. It doesn't meet my standards because I am tired. Yes.
I actually ran yesterday! Seriously. Originally, I was just going to go for a walk with Pounce, my puppy. But I felt so strong and energetic, that I decided we should run. Or maybe his running with a twig inspired me. I can't remember. Again, I'll blame that on tiredness.
It was a short run... Just a couple of blocks. But it was a great start and I'm so proud of myself. I originally didn't want to write about my pride because it's just a run Ashley! But it feels like a triumph since I was feeling so poorly for such a long time with my asthma. But running... Running requires a lot of air intake and expulsion. Running made me remember how my lungs were supposed to work.
Also, I was not having fatigue or balance problems yesterday. So I felt very connected to the ground as I walked. I wanted to know what that strong connection felt like as I ran. Now I do! It's good body times like these that I feel bad about seeking physical therapy and considering getting a walking cane for bad times. I had one just the other day. I was on a walk, wobbly, and so I was waddling a bit, twisting my back which was already sore. I hated feeling disconnected from the ground.
But yesterday during my run/walk/run I didn't have that disconnection. I felt strong. Almost invincible. I don't know how else to explain it, but it felt like I hadn't had any mobility issue or fatigue. Ever. That happens to me on good days. It makes me smile. But then another day, after a period of great walking, the symptoms will start. Or I'll have some difficulty on my stairs at home or somewhere else. And I'll feel so defeated. Let down. Like I got my hopes up. Got used to something grand. And now I don't know how to handle feeling terrible.
I hate to say it, but this cycle sometimes makes it hard for me to enjoy good periods, especially because good periods make me wonder if I was imagining the bad ones. Stupid, I know. But still. Also, good periods often only last so long as I'm relatively inactive. But if I overdo it, which is very easy and quick to do, I suffer with symptoms afterward. So a good period for me is filled with dread at times. And guilt for bringing on worse symptoms. I know, I know. Living my life shouldn't bring on symptoms. I'm 24 years old. I shouldn't have to live my life this way. Most of all, I should never feel guilty for enjoying my life. And I have been enjoying it.
Sometimes it is also hard to enjoy good periods because the trauma of a bad period remains. I had trouble breathing for most of a month. Most of the time it hurt to exhale. Only medication and lying still helped. That takes a toll emotionally. I don't just get over that. Also, it's kind of a shock because my asthma is generally mild and flare-ups are short lived. I didn't expect to have to deal with this bad one on top of everything else. The asthma, like my other problems, was both prevented and relieved by complete rest. When I'm active, there are often physically repercussions. It's not great incentive to be active.
I don't mind my quiet life, really. I love to sleep. I love to read and write and cuddle my dog. I'm a homebody. I tend to be anti-social often. This kind of life kind of suits me. It doesn't feel like a waste.
It's just hard not knowing how I will feel in the future or how my issues will affect my career and relationships. What will I face in the future? None of us really know, I guess. It doesn't scare me. It sometimes just feels futile, waiting to feel better -- not just from this particular illness but from flare-ups of pre-existing conditions. I mean, I feel good very often. Really good. But it never lasts long. These flare-ups of everything will keep coming back.
A long period of feeling good. That's what I want. That is true wellness. I haven't felt it in a long time, but here's hoping this weekend will be amazing like the last one! Friends are the greatest therapy.
I blame it on sleeping so much so often for so long that now that I'm better my body is boycotting sleep. Maybe. I haven't really been able to get to sleep until I've been very tired. It's 6 am and I think that time has come... BUT the thing is. When I do fall asleep, it will be for a long time or I will need a nap soon. I find I need a lot of sleep to feel good and strong. Something tells me that I will read this post tomorrow and be disappointed in the writing, or I will find typos or grammatical errors. I think I'm too hard on myself sometimes. BUT I think being tired gives me the excuse I want for not liking my writing tonight. It doesn't meet my standards because I am tired. Yes.
I actually ran yesterday! Seriously. Originally, I was just going to go for a walk with Pounce, my puppy. But I felt so strong and energetic, that I decided we should run. Or maybe his running with a twig inspired me. I can't remember. Again, I'll blame that on tiredness.
It was a short run... Just a couple of blocks. But it was a great start and I'm so proud of myself. I originally didn't want to write about my pride because it's just a run Ashley! But it feels like a triumph since I was feeling so poorly for such a long time with my asthma. But running... Running requires a lot of air intake and expulsion. Running made me remember how my lungs were supposed to work.
Also, I was not having fatigue or balance problems yesterday. So I felt very connected to the ground as I walked. I wanted to know what that strong connection felt like as I ran. Now I do! It's good body times like these that I feel bad about seeking physical therapy and considering getting a walking cane for bad times. I had one just the other day. I was on a walk, wobbly, and so I was waddling a bit, twisting my back which was already sore. I hated feeling disconnected from the ground.
But yesterday during my run/walk/run I didn't have that disconnection. I felt strong. Almost invincible. I don't know how else to explain it, but it felt like I hadn't had any mobility issue or fatigue. Ever. That happens to me on good days. It makes me smile. But then another day, after a period of great walking, the symptoms will start. Or I'll have some difficulty on my stairs at home or somewhere else. And I'll feel so defeated. Let down. Like I got my hopes up. Got used to something grand. And now I don't know how to handle feeling terrible.
I hate to say it, but this cycle sometimes makes it hard for me to enjoy good periods, especially because good periods make me wonder if I was imagining the bad ones. Stupid, I know. But still. Also, good periods often only last so long as I'm relatively inactive. But if I overdo it, which is very easy and quick to do, I suffer with symptoms afterward. So a good period for me is filled with dread at times. And guilt for bringing on worse symptoms. I know, I know. Living my life shouldn't bring on symptoms. I'm 24 years old. I shouldn't have to live my life this way. Most of all, I should never feel guilty for enjoying my life. And I have been enjoying it.
Sometimes it is also hard to enjoy good periods because the trauma of a bad period remains. I had trouble breathing for most of a month. Most of the time it hurt to exhale. Only medication and lying still helped. That takes a toll emotionally. I don't just get over that. Also, it's kind of a shock because my asthma is generally mild and flare-ups are short lived. I didn't expect to have to deal with this bad one on top of everything else. The asthma, like my other problems, was both prevented and relieved by complete rest. When I'm active, there are often physically repercussions. It's not great incentive to be active.
I don't mind my quiet life, really. I love to sleep. I love to read and write and cuddle my dog. I'm a homebody. I tend to be anti-social often. This kind of life kind of suits me. It doesn't feel like a waste.
It's just hard not knowing how I will feel in the future or how my issues will affect my career and relationships. What will I face in the future? None of us really know, I guess. It doesn't scare me. It sometimes just feels futile, waiting to feel better -- not just from this particular illness but from flare-ups of pre-existing conditions. I mean, I feel good very often. Really good. But it never lasts long. These flare-ups of everything will keep coming back.
A long period of feeling good. That's what I want. That is true wellness. I haven't felt it in a long time, but here's hoping this weekend will be amazing like the last one! Friends are the greatest therapy.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
The Meaning of the Sipping Tool
I'm tired of drinking from ugly mugs with stupid messages on them like "My Dad's the Greatest." Oops! That came out wrong. I feel odd drinking from it for the obvious reason that I am not a dad. It's an old mug and I assume my mom bought it for him. I wouldn't do such a thing. I mean, I love my dad and he is great (just to clarify that I'm not a monster daughter); I just find that stuff cheesy and meaningless.
There's another mug that has a picture of a female stick figure pulling her hair out. Above, it says "My kids are driving me crazy!" Really, Mom? I make a point of not drinking out of that mug. I'm serious. The dad one, I'll drink from.
Then there are corporate mugs that we obviously just have for the sake of having mugs. Just one of things you collect because you don't have to pay for it. Maybe they were given away as prizes or something, really to market the businesses (I figured this out, having studied public relations). For the longest time we had one that had a Toronto radio station logo on it. I'm assuming it broke because knowing my family we'd have no other reason to throw it away. It seemed odd to me because I didn't think any of us listened to that radio station. We also have mugs with the label of the newspaper my mom used to work for. That makes some sense to me: they must have been giving them away at her work. Maybe there were extras from the coffee room.
When I get my own place, I won't have mugs. Well maybe I'll just have one that says, "My mom is driving me crazy!" And when she comes over to visit I'll serve her a drink in it. Yes, I know I could get nice mugs, but I don't drink coffee. And I don't want to drink tea from a mug. I want cups and saucers! I drank from one once at a friend's and loved it. I loved feeling the thin rim between my lips, then hearing the click of the cup on the saucer after my sip. And it had a beautiful design on it. Definitely an antique, but I don't know if I want any of those. They're very expensive and I'd be too paranoid about it breaking!
I definitely want an old fashioned tea set, though. Just a new one. Maybe with a floral print? I won't go as far as making sure it matches the decor though. That's just weird. It would be a drastic move for a simple girl like me who has never painted her bedroom or bathroom she has had for 22 years!
Anytime I see a tea set in a magazine, on tv or in a store window, I smile hard and say "Aaaw!" Either out loud or in my head. It's more than just the aesthetic appeal. To me, a tea set of my own will symbolize my independence when I move out. The fantasy of drinking from the cups with my friends is the fantasy of doing things my way. Entertaining my friends whenever I want. I can see the Facebook event page now: "Tea Time at Ashley's!"
The tea party will be ruined if guests come who don't like tea. No! You have to drink from the set! That's what makes it special! (Sigh) I mean, I could make them drink water or milk from the tea cups. Or I could make up for forcing them by at least buying them some coffee and putting it into the tea cups. It might be cold by that point, though. Now I'm just obsessing. I won't force anyone to do anything. My non-tea drinking friends can sip coffee from wine glasses for all I care. Or they can drink wine from wine glasses. Hey, so can I! This is sounding better than my tea party idea...
There's another mug that has a picture of a female stick figure pulling her hair out. Above, it says "My kids are driving me crazy!" Really, Mom? I make a point of not drinking out of that mug. I'm serious. The dad one, I'll drink from.
Then there are corporate mugs that we obviously just have for the sake of having mugs. Just one of things you collect because you don't have to pay for it. Maybe they were given away as prizes or something, really to market the businesses (I figured this out, having studied public relations). For the longest time we had one that had a Toronto radio station logo on it. I'm assuming it broke because knowing my family we'd have no other reason to throw it away. It seemed odd to me because I didn't think any of us listened to that radio station. We also have mugs with the label of the newspaper my mom used to work for. That makes some sense to me: they must have been giving them away at her work. Maybe there were extras from the coffee room.
When I get my own place, I won't have mugs. Well maybe I'll just have one that says, "My mom is driving me crazy!" And when she comes over to visit I'll serve her a drink in it. Yes, I know I could get nice mugs, but I don't drink coffee. And I don't want to drink tea from a mug. I want cups and saucers! I drank from one once at a friend's and loved it. I loved feeling the thin rim between my lips, then hearing the click of the cup on the saucer after my sip. And it had a beautiful design on it. Definitely an antique, but I don't know if I want any of those. They're very expensive and I'd be too paranoid about it breaking!
I definitely want an old fashioned tea set, though. Just a new one. Maybe with a floral print? I won't go as far as making sure it matches the decor though. That's just weird. It would be a drastic move for a simple girl like me who has never painted her bedroom or bathroom she has had for 22 years!
Anytime I see a tea set in a magazine, on tv or in a store window, I smile hard and say "Aaaw!" Either out loud or in my head. It's more than just the aesthetic appeal. To me, a tea set of my own will symbolize my independence when I move out. The fantasy of drinking from the cups with my friends is the fantasy of doing things my way. Entertaining my friends whenever I want. I can see the Facebook event page now: "Tea Time at Ashley's!"
The tea party will be ruined if guests come who don't like tea. No! You have to drink from the set! That's what makes it special! (Sigh) I mean, I could make them drink water or milk from the tea cups. Or I could make up for forcing them by at least buying them some coffee and putting it into the tea cups. It might be cold by that point, though. Now I'm just obsessing. I won't force anyone to do anything. My non-tea drinking friends can sip coffee from wine glasses for all I care. Or they can drink wine from wine glasses. Hey, so can I! This is sounding better than my tea party idea...
Monday, July 12, 2010
Well aren't I fun (That isn't sarcasm)
Fantastic weekend! Friends are what made it grand. (Isn't that the case every weekend?) I've become a bit of a social butterfly over the past couple of weeks. I just want to dress up, have some laughs, dance, soak up the sun, eat good food and have some drinks, swim in my pool and cuddle my dog. I love doing a lot of things on my own, but for a while I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to share those experiences with great friends.
It is so important to feel loved. I mean, of course I knew I was loved, but when you're physically with them it feels that much stronger. I mean, these are people who can make any situation amazing, people with whom conversation comes easy. People I can vent to and know that they are really listening.
Ah, it doesn't pay to vague, does it? I love details, so here we go:
Saturday I went out with a friend I made in my fifth and final year of university. We'd never hung out outside of school, so I was a bit nervous that I wouldn't have much to say since for the past couple of years Facebook chat was our only connection. Well, it was smooth and natural, fun and interesting. I also scared off various drunken, idiotic jerks who came over "to say hello." Well, "Hello" my foot! Seriously. How dumb did they think we were! Yes, I will take you seriously because you want to shake my hand (sarcasm) ... Go away! Grrrr. One said I "didn't look too happy." I was surprised he knew how to take a hint...
Sometimes I wonder what jerks like that are like when they are sober during weekdays -- well, if they are sober. Like, are they perfect gentlemen, going to the office then coming home to dinner with their wives and kids? Or do they live in their parents' basements by day, chasing anything with boobs and a pulse at night? Also, what do their livers look like? And why aren't they afraid of being castrated?
Rant over!
Today I listened to music in my room and then cuddled my dog. Then my sister came over for dinner. When I heard her voice at the door a smile came onto my face and I felt like a little kid again, running to the door. I hugged her hard. I love her so much! The meal was fantastic: roast chicken and roast potatoes and carrots. Thanks Mom! Then my friend came over. We swam and chatted in the pool, got dressed then went for one of our long walks. We talk a lot! She listens. I feel more comfortable with her than anyone else in my life I think. With other friends -- no matter how close we are and how much I love them -- it takes me time to get fully comfortable and chatty and laughing. That's why I prefer longer hangouts. Otherwise, by the time I'm comfortable it's time for the friend to go! Not my truest buddy. A couple of hours is enough because I see her often and I'm completely comfortable and involved for the whole time.
On our way back home, I bought a bag of Hickory Sticks and a package of three Twinkies. I ate all of it before getting into her dad's car to go home. Then at home, I got out of my clothes, into my housecoat and went downstairs and had a big plate of spinach-beef lasagna. Oh man! My mom's is the best. And I love how the cheese oozes from beneath the pasta as I sink my knife into it. Then it all melts in my mouth. Man! So anyway... I'm stuffed and for the first time in ages, I'm actually bloated. I wish my appetite was always this amazing! I weigh 94 pounds, but I want to get to at least 107, my heighest weight, which was in grade 10. I think a little weight is healthier and prettier, mind you I don't look emaciated and I feel feminine. I like to think of myself as a Betty Boop type. Hahaha. Tinkerbell was a cool petite character too, but those hips are just a tad implausible, don't you think?
I felt good this weekend -- again! But I was waddling and wobbly on my walk. I think that's why my back is hurting more than usual tonight. It's okay -- tomorrow I will book my physical therapy! I will also swim in my pool again. I love floating around and treading water. It's fun and refreshing.
I also really need to get back into reading. I just stopped doing it months ago, but I have a bunch of books I've bought and never read. Like I just collect books for some reason. No, I haven't bought a book or been given a book in like a year and a half. I just found more I wanted to read than I got around to! That's such a disrespect to myself as a person who isn't working or in school, and is also as a writer.
I really love to have books around me. Really. A room without books is so... Naked and cold. I don't think I could ever get into the Kindle or iPad. I mean, I understand the convenience factor, but what about cracking a spine open? Flipping pages? It's a far more pleasurable reading experience than I think an electronic book could ever be. Still, people try to convince me! I think my dad, a loyal Apple fan, may think he can win me over since he's seen my recoveries from various technophobias:
For a couple of years I was anti-MP3 and all about CD's -- superior quality! Then I gave in and bought one for the great compiling capabilities (and, with the iPod, no need for batteries -- mind you I've had two iPods and both have never stayed charged for long). Also, I was anti-cell phone and only got one because my mom wanted to be able to get a hold of me while I was at university.
I guess I should go to bed now. Here I am, writing about my healthy changes: I'm exercising and eating a lot, but I'm staying up late! I haven't yet resolved my nocturnal tendencies...
It is so important to feel loved. I mean, of course I knew I was loved, but when you're physically with them it feels that much stronger. I mean, these are people who can make any situation amazing, people with whom conversation comes easy. People I can vent to and know that they are really listening.
Ah, it doesn't pay to vague, does it? I love details, so here we go:
Saturday I went out with a friend I made in my fifth and final year of university. We'd never hung out outside of school, so I was a bit nervous that I wouldn't have much to say since for the past couple of years Facebook chat was our only connection. Well, it was smooth and natural, fun and interesting. I also scared off various drunken, idiotic jerks who came over "to say hello." Well, "Hello" my foot! Seriously. How dumb did they think we were! Yes, I will take you seriously because you want to shake my hand (sarcasm) ... Go away! Grrrr. One said I "didn't look too happy." I was surprised he knew how to take a hint...
Sometimes I wonder what jerks like that are like when they are sober during weekdays -- well, if they are sober. Like, are they perfect gentlemen, going to the office then coming home to dinner with their wives and kids? Or do they live in their parents' basements by day, chasing anything with boobs and a pulse at night? Also, what do their livers look like? And why aren't they afraid of being castrated?
Rant over!
Today I listened to music in my room and then cuddled my dog. Then my sister came over for dinner. When I heard her voice at the door a smile came onto my face and I felt like a little kid again, running to the door. I hugged her hard. I love her so much! The meal was fantastic: roast chicken and roast potatoes and carrots. Thanks Mom! Then my friend came over. We swam and chatted in the pool, got dressed then went for one of our long walks. We talk a lot! She listens. I feel more comfortable with her than anyone else in my life I think. With other friends -- no matter how close we are and how much I love them -- it takes me time to get fully comfortable and chatty and laughing. That's why I prefer longer hangouts. Otherwise, by the time I'm comfortable it's time for the friend to go! Not my truest buddy. A couple of hours is enough because I see her often and I'm completely comfortable and involved for the whole time.
On our way back home, I bought a bag of Hickory Sticks and a package of three Twinkies. I ate all of it before getting into her dad's car to go home. Then at home, I got out of my clothes, into my housecoat and went downstairs and had a big plate of spinach-beef lasagna. Oh man! My mom's is the best. And I love how the cheese oozes from beneath the pasta as I sink my knife into it. Then it all melts in my mouth. Man! So anyway... I'm stuffed and for the first time in ages, I'm actually bloated. I wish my appetite was always this amazing! I weigh 94 pounds, but I want to get to at least 107, my heighest weight, which was in grade 10. I think a little weight is healthier and prettier, mind you I don't look emaciated and I feel feminine. I like to think of myself as a Betty Boop type. Hahaha. Tinkerbell was a cool petite character too, but those hips are just a tad implausible, don't you think?
I felt good this weekend -- again! But I was waddling and wobbly on my walk. I think that's why my back is hurting more than usual tonight. It's okay -- tomorrow I will book my physical therapy! I will also swim in my pool again. I love floating around and treading water. It's fun and refreshing.
I also really need to get back into reading. I just stopped doing it months ago, but I have a bunch of books I've bought and never read. Like I just collect books for some reason. No, I haven't bought a book or been given a book in like a year and a half. I just found more I wanted to read than I got around to! That's such a disrespect to myself as a person who isn't working or in school, and is also as a writer.
I really love to have books around me. Really. A room without books is so... Naked and cold. I don't think I could ever get into the Kindle or iPad. I mean, I understand the convenience factor, but what about cracking a spine open? Flipping pages? It's a far more pleasurable reading experience than I think an electronic book could ever be. Still, people try to convince me! I think my dad, a loyal Apple fan, may think he can win me over since he's seen my recoveries from various technophobias:
For a couple of years I was anti-MP3 and all about CD's -- superior quality! Then I gave in and bought one for the great compiling capabilities (and, with the iPod, no need for batteries -- mind you I've had two iPods and both have never stayed charged for long). Also, I was anti-cell phone and only got one because my mom wanted to be able to get a hold of me while I was at university.
I guess I should go to bed now. Here I am, writing about my healthy changes: I'm exercising and eating a lot, but I'm staying up late! I haven't yet resolved my nocturnal tendencies...
Saturday, July 10, 2010
More Late Night Musings
About an hour ago I was having a blue moment while eating some pizza and listening to music. You know, when you want to pull a treasured stuffed animal to your chest and squeeze it, letting its material absorb your tears? My legs were fatigued and I had pain in my neck, lower back and legs. That's pretty normal for me. It accompanies the fatigue. I think that's what was making me upset, mind you I've also been angry and traumatized that my asthma flare-up lasted a whole month and was the third one I've had in seven months.
I thought about all of the people I've exchanged letters with over the past couple of years: professors, friends and colleagues. I desperately wanted to write a letter to one of these people who read my long letters and reply with their own. I didn't really realize it until now, but when I'm upset, one of my first and strongest inclinations is to write to someone -- not just about what I'm going through, but to learn more about what that person is going through or doing with their lives. With many of these people, I haven't received replies to my latest letters. This is fine with me. I know life gets in the way, plus people don't always feel like writing letters. But I'm not going to write more letters to them.
Well, after my pizza (and cookies... way too many cookies) I went upstairs and sat down to think about everything. The pain went away. It's amazing how terrible I often feel when I'm on my feet. So when the symptoms settled, my sadness went away. This is the effect of my body on my emotions. With my happy self restored, I've been scheming a creative project -- something I can do sitting down. I want to write a fictional correspondence between two girls. This will help to satisfy my urges to write letters! To make good letters, first I will have to come up with long, detailed histories and personalities of my two characters. I think of this and other types of writing as acting. Both crafts require you to put yourself into the shoes of the character and to learn to feel things the way you think they do. Well, that's all I will say because I don't want to give my ideas for this fiction away!
While I plot and sweat over this, feel free to write me a letter if I know you and/or we've communicated through this blog. My email is on my blog home page (Where "About Me" is). I've met so many kind, beautiful, intelligent and creative people in my time as a blogger and blog reader.
Writing in this blog has partly satisfied my urge to write letters. You see, I vent and describe things in here much in the same way I do letters. I think my style here is the same if not similar too. And of course, my comments on other blogs and on my own feel very much like letters. I think comments are part of what make blogs such a fascinating type of life writing. Not only can anyone get exposure and become a part of a community, but with comments, people keep my narrative going, as I do theirs. My memoir is what my Canadian Life Writing professor would call a "memoir-in-process."
But why did I start blogging to begin with, aside from my desire for an audience? Well, it was last November. I'd been sick since a virus the previous June and was fed up with being sick -- not only of the aftermath of the virus, but of all of my previous illnesses and related issues. Writing in a blog seemed like a good way to share everything I had to get out as I am much better at articulating everything in great detail through writing than talking. I also hoped it would help to connect me to people going through similar things. I craved that support.
I had no idea that I would make so many blog friends (my regulars) who would have such compassion despite not being or having been in my shoes. They wanted to read about my struggle. I wasn't an annoying broken record like I thought I would be. My experiences weren't as boring and pathetic as I thought they were. Writing helped me realize this. So did you guys. So thank you! I love reading your wonderful blogs!
It took some months to learn, but now I know that I am interesting. This is just a pause in my life. It will end and others will begin, but I'll always have my writing. And, as one commenter recently wrote to me, I'll always have my dreams -- and I know I can attain them.
So, having gotten this off my chest and being rid of the pain, I'm happy again. But I still feel traumatized by everything, mainly because I'm jaded. I keep wondering: what next? I hate feeling so prone to illness. It makes me feel weak and frustrated. Like what is it about my body that likes to get sick? Most of my issues are not related, but still. It seems like one hell of a coincidence that I have and have always had to go through feeling like garbage so often. I kind of feel like a victim because I don't seem to have much of any control or prediction ability. So yeah. There are times I want to punch a stuffed animal instead of cuddle it.
I thought about all of the people I've exchanged letters with over the past couple of years: professors, friends and colleagues. I desperately wanted to write a letter to one of these people who read my long letters and reply with their own. I didn't really realize it until now, but when I'm upset, one of my first and strongest inclinations is to write to someone -- not just about what I'm going through, but to learn more about what that person is going through or doing with their lives. With many of these people, I haven't received replies to my latest letters. This is fine with me. I know life gets in the way, plus people don't always feel like writing letters. But I'm not going to write more letters to them.
Well, after my pizza (and cookies... way too many cookies) I went upstairs and sat down to think about everything. The pain went away. It's amazing how terrible I often feel when I'm on my feet. So when the symptoms settled, my sadness went away. This is the effect of my body on my emotions. With my happy self restored, I've been scheming a creative project -- something I can do sitting down. I want to write a fictional correspondence between two girls. This will help to satisfy my urges to write letters! To make good letters, first I will have to come up with long, detailed histories and personalities of my two characters. I think of this and other types of writing as acting. Both crafts require you to put yourself into the shoes of the character and to learn to feel things the way you think they do. Well, that's all I will say because I don't want to give my ideas for this fiction away!
While I plot and sweat over this, feel free to write me a letter if I know you and/or we've communicated through this blog. My email is on my blog home page (Where "About Me" is). I've met so many kind, beautiful, intelligent and creative people in my time as a blogger and blog reader.
Writing in this blog has partly satisfied my urge to write letters. You see, I vent and describe things in here much in the same way I do letters. I think my style here is the same if not similar too. And of course, my comments on other blogs and on my own feel very much like letters. I think comments are part of what make blogs such a fascinating type of life writing. Not only can anyone get exposure and become a part of a community, but with comments, people keep my narrative going, as I do theirs. My memoir is what my Canadian Life Writing professor would call a "memoir-in-process."
But why did I start blogging to begin with, aside from my desire for an audience? Well, it was last November. I'd been sick since a virus the previous June and was fed up with being sick -- not only of the aftermath of the virus, but of all of my previous illnesses and related issues. Writing in a blog seemed like a good way to share everything I had to get out as I am much better at articulating everything in great detail through writing than talking. I also hoped it would help to connect me to people going through similar things. I craved that support.
I had no idea that I would make so many blog friends (my regulars) who would have such compassion despite not being or having been in my shoes. They wanted to read about my struggle. I wasn't an annoying broken record like I thought I would be. My experiences weren't as boring and pathetic as I thought they were. Writing helped me realize this. So did you guys. So thank you! I love reading your wonderful blogs!
It took some months to learn, but now I know that I am interesting. This is just a pause in my life. It will end and others will begin, but I'll always have my writing. And, as one commenter recently wrote to me, I'll always have my dreams -- and I know I can attain them.
So, having gotten this off my chest and being rid of the pain, I'm happy again. But I still feel traumatized by everything, mainly because I'm jaded. I keep wondering: what next? I hate feeling so prone to illness. It makes me feel weak and frustrated. Like what is it about my body that likes to get sick? Most of my issues are not related, but still. It seems like one hell of a coincidence that I have and have always had to go through feeling like garbage so often. I kind of feel like a victim because I don't seem to have much of any control or prediction ability. So yeah. There are times I want to punch a stuffed animal instead of cuddle it.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Cheer and Breaks
It is 33 degrees celsius outside right now. What?! I hate the heat, so I'm staying inside. To remind myself that it's summer, what with the curtains closed and the air conditioning on, I ate strawberries and clementines. I read the labels: strawberries from California and clementines from South Africa. I've often wondered how the fruit gets to the grocery store so quickly and safely. I also think about all the gas used to transport them. Can't be good for the environment! So for a moment in my kitchen I decided to try to eat more local ingredients.
Then it made me realize that most things I wear and use were not made in my country. I think all or at least most of the toys I played with were made in China. Naturally, this made me consider the conditions under which these things were made. In factories. Most likely by people making very small wages. It's so sad. It's not like it's just one item or company that does this. So how can we avoid it all? I don't intend to try. It hardly seems possible.
I just feel so lucky to live in Canada because I have rights, healthcare an education -- I consider myself wealthy in every way that counts.
But Canada has its issues too. When I go to restaurants or fast food joints, I think about the minimum wage the employees have to make do with. The rationale for such poor wages for waiters and waitresses is that they get tips. That's terrible. What excuse do these businesses have for not paying their staff properly? And why are customers expected to supplement the staffs' income? It's all so wrong. All I can think of are the huge wages the executives and owners must be making off the backs of their employees. It's disgusting. It's been said many times, but many corporations are evil.
I've written this here before, but from January to April of this year, I did a semester of a post-graduate program in Corporate Communications. This is essentially public relations, which is the practice of building relationships between businesses and the public. Well, I don't intend to work for a corporation, mainly because I disapprove of the way they are run, but also because I do not want to defend their actions to the public. I also don't want to have to brag about the company's supposed green initiatives which, for some reason, big wigs at corporations seem to think will deflect attention from their wrongdoings or even make up for them.
I started the Corporate Communications program because I wanted to learn how to write for not-for-profit organizations, preferably those who handle social health issues. My main interests are in awareness and advocacy. To my regulars here, it's probably obvious why I'm attracted to these things. I know from personal experience that these things are very important and make a huge difference. Working at a place like this will allow me to write persuasively (which I find very fun!) AND make a difference! I will likely write press releases, letters to accompany information packages, annual reports, brochures, magazines, newsletters, website information. Ah! It's so exciting.
I was relieved to find that all of my professors in the program were ethically minded. We were encouraged and taught how to do important work. I'm excited to go back in January when the second semester will be offered again. I deferred it to rest as I am often sick and the program and internship requires a lot of energy! It is also stressful at times -- yes, even for laid back me. Haha, although in this block maybe I don't come off as being laid back. I assure you I am!
I was definitely not up to doing the first semester. I missed a lot of classes and had to get several extensions for assignments near the end. When I applied to the program, I just figured I'd be better by January. Then January came and I was so sick of being at home for seven months, so I went through with it. I was also anxious to get a job and move out -- getting my certificate was my last step before doing that. I'm definitely annoyed that I've had to postpone everything, but I must admit that I really enjoy sleeping in and not having to talk to anyone or do anything when I don't feel well.
I feel great right now, aside from being tired. I think that's why I'm thinking about my future. I have great potential!
But even when I'm sick, I can function very well -- sometimes I feel like I can do anything. I was short of breath and coughing for much of Saturday, but still I dressed up, put on a lot of make-up, then went to my cousin's wedding ceremony and reception, enjoyed the open bar, the great food and the dance floor! These are all things I hadn't done in ages, or at least not much since I got sick. I had a wonderful time with my family and the new people I met. I felt beautiful and confident.
Sometimes I feel bad about being out of school and not working, since I can often function while I'm sick. It's not like I'm bedridden. I feel like a wimp for letting this control my life. The truth is, I need to rest even if I can usually function. This was the best decision for me. So for now I guess I'll just have to dream about the future and start playing video games. Haha. That's not so bad is it? Plus, I also have my fruit and my Pounce.
Then it made me realize that most things I wear and use were not made in my country. I think all or at least most of the toys I played with were made in China. Naturally, this made me consider the conditions under which these things were made. In factories. Most likely by people making very small wages. It's so sad. It's not like it's just one item or company that does this. So how can we avoid it all? I don't intend to try. It hardly seems possible.
I just feel so lucky to live in Canada because I have rights, healthcare an education -- I consider myself wealthy in every way that counts.
But Canada has its issues too. When I go to restaurants or fast food joints, I think about the minimum wage the employees have to make do with. The rationale for such poor wages for waiters and waitresses is that they get tips. That's terrible. What excuse do these businesses have for not paying their staff properly? And why are customers expected to supplement the staffs' income? It's all so wrong. All I can think of are the huge wages the executives and owners must be making off the backs of their employees. It's disgusting. It's been said many times, but many corporations are evil.
I've written this here before, but from January to April of this year, I did a semester of a post-graduate program in Corporate Communications. This is essentially public relations, which is the practice of building relationships between businesses and the public. Well, I don't intend to work for a corporation, mainly because I disapprove of the way they are run, but also because I do not want to defend their actions to the public. I also don't want to have to brag about the company's supposed green initiatives which, for some reason, big wigs at corporations seem to think will deflect attention from their wrongdoings or even make up for them.
I started the Corporate Communications program because I wanted to learn how to write for not-for-profit organizations, preferably those who handle social health issues. My main interests are in awareness and advocacy. To my regulars here, it's probably obvious why I'm attracted to these things. I know from personal experience that these things are very important and make a huge difference. Working at a place like this will allow me to write persuasively (which I find very fun!) AND make a difference! I will likely write press releases, letters to accompany information packages, annual reports, brochures, magazines, newsletters, website information. Ah! It's so exciting.
I was relieved to find that all of my professors in the program were ethically minded. We were encouraged and taught how to do important work. I'm excited to go back in January when the second semester will be offered again. I deferred it to rest as I am often sick and the program and internship requires a lot of energy! It is also stressful at times -- yes, even for laid back me. Haha, although in this block maybe I don't come off as being laid back. I assure you I am!
I was definitely not up to doing the first semester. I missed a lot of classes and had to get several extensions for assignments near the end. When I applied to the program, I just figured I'd be better by January. Then January came and I was so sick of being at home for seven months, so I went through with it. I was also anxious to get a job and move out -- getting my certificate was my last step before doing that. I'm definitely annoyed that I've had to postpone everything, but I must admit that I really enjoy sleeping in and not having to talk to anyone or do anything when I don't feel well.
I feel great right now, aside from being tired. I think that's why I'm thinking about my future. I have great potential!
But even when I'm sick, I can function very well -- sometimes I feel like I can do anything. I was short of breath and coughing for much of Saturday, but still I dressed up, put on a lot of make-up, then went to my cousin's wedding ceremony and reception, enjoyed the open bar, the great food and the dance floor! These are all things I hadn't done in ages, or at least not much since I got sick. I had a wonderful time with my family and the new people I met. I felt beautiful and confident.
Sometimes I feel bad about being out of school and not working, since I can often function while I'm sick. It's not like I'm bedridden. I feel like a wimp for letting this control my life. The truth is, I need to rest even if I can usually function. This was the best decision for me. So for now I guess I'll just have to dream about the future and start playing video games. Haha. That's not so bad is it? Plus, I also have my fruit and my Pounce.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
To Dance Wearing Pants
On Wednesday afternoon, I woke up feeling good and decided that I had to get out of the house. My sister, detecting that I was upset, invited me to come over to her place for a bit before she and our friend went out dancing at a regular function for my sister's work. I said yes, then as I got dressed I realized I was dressing up -- perhaps because leaving my house felt like a special occasion. My outfit was black pants, a blue dress shirt and a grey sweater jacket. So I said, "What the hell," I'm up to it. I want to go dancing too! So I did! The decision was final when I found out another good friend of ours was going.
I didn't anticipate being bored at the club/bar. It's like I didn't remember disliking going out to places like that. When I was 19 for part of age 20, I really enjoyed it most of the time, just not for more than a couple of hours because I've never liked being on my feet for that long. I think I had last gone dancing a few years ago.
Well, there I was, dancing in a pink glittery shirt I picked out at my sister's (YES. ME IN PINK!) to top 40 music with strange, drunk, desperate men talking to me and even possibly drunker couples making out at various parts of the club. I'd forgotten how annoying those men were, the ones who seem to come to clubs alone just to get women to come home with them or at least re-enact scenes from the Discovery Channel on the dance floor.
It all came back to me, the necessary measures to repel these overzealous drunkards. The key is persistence, ladies:
First, don't look bored or nervous. Stand tall.
Second, never make eye contact. The beast will interpret this as, "Yes. She wants me!" or "She'll definitely come home with me if I talk to her."
Third, if he talks to you, keep your back to him. Dance with a bunch of girls if you have to. You don't necessarily have to be rude; just keep your answers short. One guy told me he wanted to get to know me and I said something like, "That's nice."
With those steps, he should get the hint, but if he doesn't be prepared to yell at him and/or fetch a bouncer. And of course never let him touch you if you don't want him to. Some guys feel that they are entitled to touch you and if you push them away, they will claim you are a bitch. You know, because our bodies are public property. Also, if you are wearing something even the least bit revealing, in their eyes, that makes you fair game. Unfortunately, they might think she asked for it.
Anyway, I ended up having a great time, mind you we stayed for at least an hour longer than my legs wanted. It was okay. I just sat on the stage swaying, occasionally looking behind me to watch men and women take turns pole dancing or dancing provocatively with their Canadian flags. It was the day before Canada Day. Earlier in the night the anthem music came on and many sang "O Canada."
So there you have it. A night of fun, humour and friend love. But damn, was I happy to leave!
I didn't anticipate being bored at the club/bar. It's like I didn't remember disliking going out to places like that. When I was 19 for part of age 20, I really enjoyed it most of the time, just not for more than a couple of hours because I've never liked being on my feet for that long. I think I had last gone dancing a few years ago.
Well, there I was, dancing in a pink glittery shirt I picked out at my sister's (YES. ME IN PINK!) to top 40 music with strange, drunk, desperate men talking to me and even possibly drunker couples making out at various parts of the club. I'd forgotten how annoying those men were, the ones who seem to come to clubs alone just to get women to come home with them or at least re-enact scenes from the Discovery Channel on the dance floor.
It all came back to me, the necessary measures to repel these overzealous drunkards. The key is persistence, ladies:
First, don't look bored or nervous. Stand tall.
Second, never make eye contact. The beast will interpret this as, "Yes. She wants me!" or "She'll definitely come home with me if I talk to her."
Third, if he talks to you, keep your back to him. Dance with a bunch of girls if you have to. You don't necessarily have to be rude; just keep your answers short. One guy told me he wanted to get to know me and I said something like, "That's nice."
With those steps, he should get the hint, but if he doesn't be prepared to yell at him and/or fetch a bouncer. And of course never let him touch you if you don't want him to. Some guys feel that they are entitled to touch you and if you push them away, they will claim you are a bitch. You know, because our bodies are public property. Also, if you are wearing something even the least bit revealing, in their eyes, that makes you fair game. Unfortunately, they might think she asked for it.
Anyway, I ended up having a great time, mind you we stayed for at least an hour longer than my legs wanted. It was okay. I just sat on the stage swaying, occasionally looking behind me to watch men and women take turns pole dancing or dancing provocatively with their Canadian flags. It was the day before Canada Day. Earlier in the night the anthem music came on and many sang "O Canada."
So there you have it. A night of fun, humour and friend love. But damn, was I happy to leave!
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