This is why

It's been about a month since my last post about my health. I haven't had anything to say that I haven't said already. Nothing has driven me to write in here about it. It's been nearly a year since I started writing regularly in this blog and writing about my illness and disability experiences. Once I noticed there was enough to fill a memoir, I lost interest in sharing. I don't know if anyone really writes and publishes volumes of books on their health. None that I have found anyway. I think after reading a whole memoir about it, I would crave new material. I feel some, if not many people may feel the same way about this blog. And as a writer, I need to grow and change as well. I just can't do that unless I regularly write about a greater variety of topics.

Of course, as a whole person who is suffering and has suffered, my story doesn't really end here, so I don't really have a clear sense of when to stop writing about it. Plus, I think when people write about something and others follow the writing with concern and interest, it gives the writer a kind of responsibility to let people know how she's doing. Just as my story doesn't end, neither does their sympathy. I also feel a responsibility to continue the discussion and provide support for others going through similar things. I have received comments and emails from people thanking me and identifying with my feelings and experiences. I hope those continue as reading and sharing have been mutually beneficial.

I think the blog is a unique type of life writing in that there is a strong community aspect to it. Mutual blog following. Friendships, even. With blog posts often come comments from readers and replies in comments from the authors. This can be a discussion, an update, a reference, so that blog entry doesn't end when I publish it. Blogs are what my Canadian Life Writing professor would have called a "memoir-in-process." Isn't that beautiful?

I really enjoy reading all sorts of life writing: blogs (of course), memoirs, journals, letters. For several years now I have exchanged letters over email with quite a few people. I like to go back and read what we've written to each other. I like to read my older diary entries I've been writing for nearly nine years. I have filled more than twenty diaries. I have a whole shelf in my bookcase for them. I think part of why I continue to read old things is my love of nostalgia and my fear of forgetting.

I've been mostly having worse pain and fatigue than usual for some time now, but it's been a while since I wrote about it at all: in letters to people, my diary, this blog. For ages I used to vent my frustrations in these places regularly. But what did writing about it do for me exactly? What compelled me to write when I did and about what? Why did I lose the will and ideas to write about my health in here?

Catharsis probably seems like the most obvious answer. I wrote when I needed to vent. I learn about myself and the world around me by writing about it. Illness involves so much more than symptoms and appointments. It is an emotional, intellectual experience that I felt I needed to channel somehow. Last year I graduated university with Professional Writing and Health and Society degrees. For many school assignments I was required to examine my own health experiences and those of others and evaluate how they shaped me and society in general. This included complex things like stigma, financial burdens, accessibility issues, the sick role, etc. Then shortly after I finished university last year I got pretty sick. I wanted to write about it, but writing in my diary was no longer enough. My professors and colleagues had been my audience. I wanted to have one again.

My life is still on pause and I know I will have to start it again. I want to, regardless of my health status. Most of my issues are chronic or at least recurring. Most of them are permanent. If I constantly put things off whenever I feel like garbage, I won't get my life back. I've plodded through many times and I know I can do it again.

Until recently I didn't realize that I've been plodding through my whole time being off sick. Like today for example. I hadn't been able to sleep because of serious pain in my spine, but still I got up when my alarm went off and took the dog out for his walk like I offered Mom. She asked me to go downstairs and come back up with a snack for her. I couldn't help but be slow and struggle a bit, but I did it. And you know what? I was happy to. She does so much for me and I like feeling needed and productive. I need to give myself more credit! I could easily refuse to do everyday things because they are painful and strenuous.

I've also plodded through school and other responsibilities during various illnesses. With accommodations such as doing work from home if need be and extensions for assignments, I have and will again be productive and successful.

To get these extensions I will have to disclose my medical problems. I don't mind people knowing, especially since it's a kind of security against being penalized for lack of participation or late assignments or whatever. It will also help me feel that people will know I have a legitimate reason and that I'm taking steps to ensure I do a good job and won't let others down.

I used to feel uneasy about disclosing because I was afraid of people thinking I was making things up, exaggerating or using excuses or on the other side of the coin, that people would think I was less capable. The fact that my health problems are invisible doesn't help. While I still have these fears, my main issues with disclosure are that I just find it hard to know that people know I'm having trouble with something and that I find it hard to react to sympathy. I can write about it freely and even talk about it freely if I'm referring to my general experience. It's just hard to tell people that I'm presently suffering, to describe the specifics.

For over a year now disclosing has become somewhat of a conversation piece. New people, relatives, neighbors and friends want to know what I've been up to. Well, I haven't been up to much of anything really and I want them to know that it's because of illness and not me just deciding to be lazy and live off my parents. No one thinks that anyway, I'm sure, but still... And anyway, I have to have something to talk about when people ask about my life. It's weird. Others talk about their jobs, or traveling, or moving out, etc. I feel so left out, but I but I know my time will come soon enough.

I'm not sure when I will write about my health again. Probably not for a while, but we'll see. I'll definitely write updates here (and probably rant a bit) from time to time.

Evolution

I haven't shared a youtube clip in my blog before because I've always wanted to focus on my own creativity here, but I couldn't help but pass this one up!

Here is Gordon Pinsent, an 80 year-old Canadian actor very well respected in Canada performing on popular Canadian satirical news show "This Hour Has 22 Minutes" a dramatic reading of Justin Bieber's autobiography.



This clip made me somewhat sad for youth -- the content Pinsent reads, I mean. Since when does this count for a memoir?! But it makes me think... I was a pre-teen once. A teenager too. I remember reading biographies and autobiographies of my favourite artists like the Spice Girls, Hanson and yes... Enrique Iglesias. Iglesias's was especially interesting because it described his love for fast food... McDonald's chicken McNuggets I believe. I can't check that fact as I don't have the book on hand for some reason...

I must point out that Pinsent was reading from Bieber's memoir (meaning written by Bieber) while the literary gems I just mentioned were mostly unofficial and written by other people.

But don't worry, in Grade 10 academic (university prep) English I found literature I really enjoyed, much of which I read in school: "To Kill A Mockingbird," "Diary of Anne Frank," etc. I also really enjoyed Romeo and Juliet, much to my surprise, as after elementary school I was put into Special Ed. English (no Shakespeare in this or in the "Applied" college prep English), and other low-level courses mostly because of my learning disability.

It turned out my skills in some areas were more advanced than many (including I) thought they would be, so in the summer I filled out these homework books that would allow me to transfer from Grade 9 special-ed English into Grade 10 "Academic" and Grade 9 "Applied" Science into Grade 10 "Academic" science. I did well in Grade 10. I even auditioned for a role in my school's Shakespearean production and got the role of Puck in a scene from "A Midsummer Night's Dream." Two years later my school did a full production in which I starred as Bottom. For those unfamiliar with the play, Puck and Bottom are its most eccentric characters. Each of them set most of the story in motion and tie together the various plot lines.

I was grateful for the more advanced studies in English (science wasn't my thing, although in grade 9 and 10 I did well.) I also took "Academic" History and other "Academic" courses in Grade 10 that I hadn't needed to complete transfer materials to get into. Not only did these courses expose me to a lot of great literature, but they required me to write quite a bit. This, of course, was a skill I was happy to develop.

I had wanted to be a journalist since about Grade 8. That was my choice of study for university, so to improve my portfolio and dress up my resume, in Grade 12 I did some work on the school paper and also took co-op at my community newspaper. My grades weren't very good, so I only got into one of the three university programs I had applied for, but that was fine with me because it had just the title I wanted: "Professional Writing."

Finally! No more classes I didn't like. Just reading and writing, studying with colleagues and professors who were also writers. It was my dream! Even though I didn't do well in my first year of classes, I was still so happy to be reading great things, watching great lectures and experimenting with new types of writing. Also, I was finally out on my own: I was taking public transit every day (which I hadn't previously ever done by myself) and I was going to a different campus than my twin sister, so I had to learn to forge friendships without her!

Despite my mediocre grades, by the end of my first year I felt like I'd learned so much. My greatest lesson? Don't force profundity! I learned other stuff I can't remember, but the point is that my writing really improved. I was so excited to see how my writing would improve in the following years at university. I was sure when I finally got my degree I would feel I was a "Professional" writer.

By my third of five years, I knew "Professional Writing" wasn't enough to make me the writer I wanted to be. I believed then and still do that the only way to become a better writer is by reading and writing. This made me jaded because by this point I felt I hadn't needed my fancy program to be a writer. It was just a crutch. Anyway, I knew my ticket to more advanced writing skills was more advanced knowledge and research skills. I had already completed the main class required for the "Health and Society" program that I was really interested in as part of my social studies requirement. Researching and writing in those classes didn't seem to help with my writing, perhaps because the style of writing and research was more academic than journalistic, but it certainly helped me develop my opinions and become more socially aware, both qualities that are often important in writers.

For a few years now I've been very confident in my writing skills. I only graduated university a year and a few months ago. It was fun to write my Health and Society assignments knowing that I didn't necessarily care if I wasn't proud of a particular assignment as long as I got at least a B, hated the assignment and it didn't represent something that I would write professionally.

By my last two years of Professional Writing courses, many of my assignments were journalistic in style, as I had chosen the "Periodical" stream of my program. I enjoyed many of them, but didn't really feel like I was becoming a journalist. Why? While they offered much inspiration in the way of lectures, discussions and readings, my professors
little direction on assignments. Most of my professors gave us completely free range: "Choose a topic; research a topic; write a topic" was the basic formula of most. I could have done that completely on my own.

I really resented this lack of direction in the second half of my university career, but then I thought: how else could they have taught me? I certainly wouldn't have wanted a lot of direction as that would entail a formulaic writing style and lots of hand-holding. Also, remember that for years I have firmly believed that reading and writing are the only way to become a writer. What other way is there to teach writing? Nothing, if you ask me. Writing can't be taught.

I became a better writer because I practiced and I matured. I experienced. My university experience inspired my writing. Isn't this blog entry the greatest evidence of that?

The Apostrophe

I have noticed that many people don't seem to know how to spell singular words that end in -y in their plural form. The trend is to avoid -ies: "puppy's" instead of "puppies." I have been trying to figure out where the logic in this is, why the apostrophe is so commonly used for the plural and if and how these offenders' education systems may have failed them.

There are also instances where some people mistakenly use -ie's for the plural if the singular ends in -ie: "cookie's." I thinks this may represent a perception that it is incorrect to put an -s after a vowel.

Where do people learn that such offenses are right? Where do they read these? I'm wondering if these abuses of the apostrophe are a recent phenomenon, perhaps resulting from unprofessionally published situations like social networking. Perhaps constant perpetuation of incorrectness has prevented the feeling that this doesn't look quite right, or maybe some people don't fully understand punctuation because they don't read professionally published materials. Maybe some simply don't digest correct usage when they read.

Some argue that social networking and gadgets that have increased communication have boosted literacy by getting people reading and writing. Some also argue that grammar, punctuation and spelling don't matter as long as the meaning is understood by both sides communicating. What do you think and how do blog writing and blog reading play into all of this?

He's Going to Blow: Review of Worm (2010)

Teacher Mr. Geoffrey Dodd (Robert Nolan) walks into his high school classroom and greets his students with zeal and friendliness, but in his head swirls a dialogue that is anything but wholesome. In the Canadian short film Worm, Nolan plays both parts very convincingly.

When Mr. Dodd finds his charade most difficult to play, it's like his smile (feigned interest) or his frown (feigned sympathy) are trying to disobey the laws of gravity. Does this sound like a comedy? It certainly felt like it. I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Emphasis on loud. Mr. Dodd's students are stereotypically dull and disinterested with Mr. Dodd's lessons. He gets back at them for not caring by announcing a pop quiz. And what does Mr. Dodd do to the only student who cares about the work? In an attempt to quell the student's desire -- so believed by Mr. Dodd -- to be his teacher's intellectual equal and to achieve greatness, Mr. Dodd gives him a 5 out of 10 on his thesis paper.

In parts, Worm felt like a parody of a horror movie, or a parody of something. Mr. Dodd imagines his crush, one of his students, blowing a kiss to him with wind blowing through her hair. Of course it's in slow motion. It's clear Mr. Dodd is supposed to be demented, a man who deals with his insecurities by assuring himself that everyone around him is a pathetic, idiotic loser who doesn't care about him or anything worth caring about.

Sometimes it seems like Mr. Dodd's lack of sincerity should be obvious to the people around him, or that his demeanor should at least be deemed suspicious. We all know phony people. They aren't quite so hard to see through. We often react to them with unease, but most characters in Worm don't react to Mr. Dodd that way. Their obliviousness to Mr. Dodd's dark side is sometimes a little hard to believe.

Late in the 20 minute short it becomes clear that this is not supposed to be a comedy. Mr. Dodd's insincerity and disdain for all things that breathe bring him to a breaking point in the bathroom. His thoughts are now dangerously sinister. He expresses his apprehensions out loud with his inner voice assuring him his compulsions are warranted and that no one will suspect anything. It's a conversation. By speaking his dark thoughts, Dodd is clearly showing he is losing the ability to lock them away. He's almost ready to act on them. He wants to. I found myself wanting him to.

Why Nolan's talent as a dramatic actor took so long to show up, I'm not sure. I was perplexed by this apparent genre change, but I surmise the inconsistencies in tone are a fault of the director, not Nolan.

I don't "like it"

Those of you who use Facebook may have recently noticed "I like it" status updates where women post where they like to put their handbag, or where they claim to like to put their "handbag," (ie "I like it on the floor") These sexually suggestive posts are supposedly intended to raise awareness about breast cancer since this is breast cancer awareness month, but I think it's just an opportunity -- excuse, rather -- some women take to be cheeky and get it into their heads that they are actually helping the cause.

I have two major problems with this supposed awareness campaign:

1) Saying "I like it on the table" does nothing to help the cause. Yes, I agree that it draws attention to breast cancer. People who want to know what the "I like it" trend is all about, given that the Facebook status updates don't include an explanation, will look it up on the internet and come across news articles and other websites that discuss breast cancer awareness month and related issues. But "I like it in the closet" does not raise awareness. Why not? It's already common knowledge that breast cancer is a problem and affects many women. True awareness would entail some sort of fundraiser or information about free mammograms or a petition for affordable medicine or information on how to lobby the government to do more research or information on where to volunteer to help women cope with this disease. Encouraging people to discover that October is breast cancer awareness month and that breast cancer is a problem accomplishes nothing.

2) "I like it on the floor," trivializes the issue. Breast cancer kills people. People who have it suffer. So do their loved ones. What if one of your Facebook friends has been touched by breast cancer. How might your little joke offend them or perhaps trigger some sort of trauma? Making a joke or trying to be cute in your Facebook status just detracts from the seriousness of the issue. Not only that, but it's just another example of sex being used to sell something with women objectifying themselves or being objectified. I'm so sick of it. Comments I've read on my Facebook friends' "I like it" statuses of course are only about the poster's sex life and it's unclear if the responders even know that it's a viral campaign for breast cancer. Obviously "I like it on the floor" doesn't actually lead to a discussion of the issues, not that people who post it expect it will anyway. It's just a move to get attention. It has nothing to do with breast cancer.

Saying "I like it in the backseat," isn't sexy, clever or even funny and it wouldn't be even if this double entendre was referring to something less serious. Who made the connection between a purse and breasts anyway? It doesn't even make sense.