Wikipedia Search: Halifax Housing Bubble Weekend

Not a real article yet, but should be. The weekend every apartment available in May in Halifax goes online and people fight with all they've got to snag a place they hope they will love.

Couple with sense of humour and habit of naming microwaves seeks single colourful house for year or two stand. We won't complain if your toilet breaks and your bathtube must be thrown onto the front lawn, not to be removed for a week as long as you hire nice plumbers.

This weekend I am almost 90% guaranteed to be putting a damage deposit on a place I love with the man I love. Investing in an area that is beautiful and makes me feel safe and I will really call home because I will be there for more than a year and we won't have roommates.

1 or 2 bedroom apartment on Halifax peninsula. Price liveable for students. Previous owner must be slightly regretful to be leaving... "I really love this place, the landlord really cares for it, but I got this job out West..." Voice must trail off and look sadly at charming kitchen and messy but loveable living room. "You're really going to call this home."

Must be close enough to my parents that I can see them every week for dinner, but far enough of a bus ride back that I can explain to L all the reasons I am SO GLAD I don't live there anymore. Some kind of deck or porch preferred. We would love to have a place to put the gorgeous little grill we asked for for Christmas. That's right; this Christmas we got a grill, some cookware, a board game... We were thrilled.

Internet included preferred. I mean, we can pay for internet but who doesn't have that set up in their house already? What students before us did not go online at home? This is too strange for me to comprehend.

Will pay extra for a nice sofa. Will buy my own sofa. Will not tolerate a velvet orange floral piece crapped out by the 1970s unless it's REALLY, really comfy. We're not broke, but we're also not rich. If the place is cheap, we will spend every minute of our free time painting walls and sewing slip covers. We will make your house our home.

We want this to be the last place we rent until we leave Halifax or buy a house. We want this to be a 1-2 bedrooms, a small kitchen, a bathroom, and one decently size closet of hopes and dreams. We want the happiest moments of our lives to be here, and the quiet fights that we will inevitably have but only make us stronger too. I want room for my obsession with patterened mugs. L wants a nook to watch baseball. We want room for a huge shelve that is our library. We will troll Value Village every day and low ball people on kijiji for furniture in hopes that we can make it feel spectacular. I will paint walls, maybe too many coats, because I will want everything to be perfect. Even though everything will be perfect the whole time. I don't even mind a comedic moment with a broken tap or awkward neighbor. I mean, at the time it will suck, but of course we need something to talk about after we move out.

Must include ability to house having a beer in the shower on a hot summer day and an armchair to paint my toe nails next to a window in the winter. Natural light makes me happy. Must always be there for us. Must have a hard floor that will make me cry when I drop one of the plates I bought with my own money, forever sentimental because they were the first plates to be mine. Must be small enough to make me realize I have too much stuff and sell it off in a desperate attempt not to have this apartment as cluttered as the last, because "this one's going to be perfect!" Must be within walking distance of a grocery store that we will go at the same. time. Every. Single. Week. And love it! Because we LOVE grocery shopping! Must house our shared quirks. Must have room for a full length mirror so I don't have to jump up and down in the bathroom on repeat to see if what I'm wearing looks passable.

I'd like to stay in the neighborhood I'm in, but most of the streets are not safe here for a woman walking home. Must make me feel guilty for leaving a little gentrified place I felt like a warrior for. Must make me feel like some South End princess who abandoned my North End and proved my mother yes, yes I will move to the old money or student streets because it's a bit pricier but you can't put a price on your own life. Must make me think, "Have I sold out?" Must make me too happy to care.

Power inclusion optional. Heat must be included because let's be honest; your house insulation is horse hair. This is Canada. Duh. Must have curtains if there is a window in the bathroom.

I must already be in this building even though I've never been inside it before.

I must be convinced I can make this place look like it belongs in Real Simple or Lonny with some elbow grease and some hard core thrifting. It won't be able to, but it'll get pretty close, and corners of it will look pretty damn good for a soon to be 21 year old. 

Quiet couple who loves Scattergories will cook in you and clean you each night and never throw laundry on you. We love makeovers! We'll paint you up nice. We'll spend money on you and take care of you. You will never be lonely. Call us back, dream house. We can have a beautiful relationship. We might leave you for Montreal in a year or three, but you'll understand. For the time we'll be together, we will be beautiful

Oh, by the way, can we bring a cat?

See you Monday! Hopefully I'll have some news.

True, Short Story: The Wrong Hospital & Detail Oriented

I feel like we've had a very wordy past two weeks. 

(Yes, people who read what I write & I constitute a 'we' now.)

Between getting angry about budget cuts to women's rights and me forcing love down your throat (Wait, would that feel good or bad? There could be worse things...) and kind of being a jerk sometimes (but in the spirit of I'm here for you!) I have maxed out my word count credit card. There's only so much you guys can take, right? Betsey said I must post Rachel Getting Married shots, and a few people wrote in to compliment my hair, so I take it you guys really agree with Betsey. Ego stroked! Victory for all.

That being said, I think before I go off into completely pixel-ated mode, I'll share a true story with you in the spirit of Planned Parenthood.

Directly from my Facebook status* (but elaborated now thanks to no character count) I bring you, The Wrong Hospital:Today I was walking in to the Robie St. wing of the hospital. In the pouring rain, there was an upset looking girl standing by herself and yelling at her phone. As I got closer, I noticed what I thought was the weirdest umbrella in the world was actually two anti-abortion signs bearing messages like 'Babies choose life!' and 'Rights for all!' as well as some less savory ones. Worth noting is that choose was actually spelled chose, and maybe I'm being finicky correcting her, but I think she meant 'choose.' Regardless, she looked like she was going to cry as yet another downpour started. As I pass her I hear her talking to herself while texting, 'Oh my gosh I think I'm at the wrong hospital... why is no one else here.'

We exchanged small smiles.

It was a nice reminder that even if I think she is a fear monger, an overall awful individual**, and a bully who lacks some critical thinking, she is still a person.

(... but fetuses aren't. HA.)

Have you ever had funny encounters with people who have different views than you in very dramatic ways?  

(I'm not talking about that one read Ayn Rand libertarian friend you kind of have.)

*** 

And now: Pretty pictures!

Coutesy of Rachel Getting Married (see it), An Education (it's visually compelling), Cupcakes and Cashmere, This is Glamorous, and my favourite new daily outfitter From Suns to Moons, whom I have lurked embarrassingly and extensively over the past week.

If you see a picture here you don't like, I will gladly remove it ASAP.

 

 

*In case you were wondering, 10 or so people liked it. Hahaha.

**Pro life doesn't mean awful. Carrying signs that say 'burn in hell baby killers' does. 

Embracing Monday

This weekend was one of second hand treasure (hot pink 1970s heels with huge bows on the toes? WOODEN CAT PICTURES?! Cornflower blue dishes? Finally finding that ubiquitous perfect red cardigan? Yesss pleaaaaseee!) and work parties (see: Mexican lucha masks, kiddie pools of Corona, and bringing L home a huge veggie platter which he devoured in maybe two hours.) Also, I witnessed the amazingness that is the NBA dunk contest and it is officially my one goal in life to see this live. Seriously. And maybe to shake Serge Ibaka's hand.

ANYWAYS... clearly it is a rough Monday for me and my mind is idle so let's just get to it! Lovely apartments, The Hairpin, one liners, and, well you know, a whole lot more!

Also, random moment: I'm going to Bermuda... does anyone live there? Has anyone gone? Tell me what to do, other than slather sunscreen on my fair skin every 30 seconds.

***

So anyone who has followed my blog over the past little bit has gathered:

1) I'm moving in a few months

2) I love home decor

3) I'm OCD to be thinking about both those things so early on.

But that's okay, because I'm just going to show you that Erin is my hero.

One self-described “jerk,” Nir Rosen, a left-leaning journalist and fellow at New York University, was forced to resign Wednesday after tweeting: “Jesus Christ, at a moment when she is going to become a martyr and glorified, we should at least remember her role as a major war monger,” and following it up with a dismissive: “Look, she was probably groped like thousands of other women.”

And right-wing blogger Debbie Schlussel wrote: “So sad, too bad, Lara. No one told her to go there. She knew the risks. And she should have known what Islam is all about. Now she knows.” 

Oh now she does know!  That'll teach her to uh... be a woman.

Hint: describing yourself as a jerk kind of makes you out to be a ... jerk. Even if you're trying to be ironic about it. Nice try though.

Thankfully, via Rachel Hills, we have a little guide for these things.

 You're really flattered. They're probably the hottest person you've ever slept with. Neither of you gets off.

Somehow, somehow I am only finding out now that reading Kris Atomic is an amazing way to say "I love you, self." So many pretty pictures can only make your life better!

Yay! I really needed some grown up books! Also, once I went into a bookstore and Atlas Shrugged was placed in the humour section. Also, did you know that you can download the kobo app for free and it essentially turns your iPhone into an ereader? I DIDN'T. AND NOW I DO. AND NOW MY LIFE IS AWESOME. Now I can alternate between Crime and Punishment and Anna Karenina without back pain chyeaaaaaaaa. 

876876328703% of polls fail at being polls and 45 out of 3 people agree.

But that won't stop me from referencing them goddamnit.

Guys, my life is so hard :(

But not as hard as Roland Washington's. Shit!

"Now, I elevate." (The Hairpin was way too good this week.)

Yes Michel Martin, yes you can.

I wish I was smart enough to come up with this sort of thing.

I think everyone can always take more.

(via Gala)

Why isn't The Romantics on Netflix? I'm certainly not paying money to rent it because they seemed to have invested all their money into nice J. Crew clothes instead of writers, but that's okay, sometimes I like to just stare at stuff for hours on end! And I need something to watch when I'm exercising! 

L: Why don't you listen to like, Eye of the Tiger or something when you're biking.

BECAUSE LOOKING AT HOW AWESOME KATIE HOLMES IS IS SO MUCH MORE MOTIVATIONAL. DUH.

Time for your Monday ism! Because anything know as the hurrah/boo theory is worth being mentioned, even if it takes ages to actually understand.

Real Simple makes my life seem unnecessarily complicated. Could you guys like... peel my bananas for me? It breaks my nails... and my bananas...

Obviously, I'm a huge supporter of Planned Parenthood, and they say it better than I ever could. Cutting their funding is like giving money to a coat hanger factory. I am only half making light of a sensitive situation; I think frequently people forget about how far women have come even in only the past 50 years.

I hope I made a shiver run through your spine.

I hope I made you think.

I hope you sign.

I'm always looking for more things for Embracing Mondays! You can toss me an email (see above) or drop a link in the comments. I feel like I don't know where to find beautiful pictures as much anymore and let's be honest, my perspective alone can be kind of boring. I frequently consider letting other people take over for a week every month or something just to get a bit of variety instead of my steady flow of CAT MINIMALISM ABORTION RIGHTS. Hey, it's fun, right?

Above: Why I don't do outfit photos.

 I hope somewhere out there today someone has the opportunity to wear a ridiculous mask in my honour (and takes it!) I hope you're wearing nice shoes today. I hope I can make you smile.

Here's to hoping! Have a great week.

Wikipedia Search: Los Angeles Lakers

I can do something else besides stuff a ball through a hoop. My biggest resource is my mind.

-Kareem Abdul-Jabbar 

Reading Plato doesn't make you smart.

Learning French doesn't make you interesting.

Wearing Rodarte doesn't make you creative.

Watching Breakfast at Tiffany's doesn't make you classy.

Dressing in all black doesn't make you important.

Reblogging things other people have said doesn't make you insightful.

Posting pictures of stuff other people have created doesn't make you unique.

Taking cell phone pictures of stuff and snarking about it on the internet doesn't make what you do better.

Hate doesn't make you loved.

So fuck that.

Stop feeling superior because you have a mental personal brand. Stop trying to be like Audrey Hepburn. Stop using Helvetica just because. Stop only buying stuff from one place. I do not hate any of these things. In fact, I like them. However, so frequently we define what is "good" and what is "bad" in culture and then decide to see that as a reflection of ourselves. Make fun of your friends who watch Jersey Shore and then pop on a Fellini DVD... but you're both sitting on a couch. You think you're unique because you shop at American Apparel instead of American Eagle... but you're still buying in. Cupcakes and Doritos are both bad for your health. Don't you understand that it's all marketing? I know you're smart enough to, even if you do not want to admit it.  

Only make stuff that is amazing.

Amazing does not mean perfect, amazing does not mean it will not be junk later. Amazing is about the fact that you made it, and even the term made does not have to be so rigid. Making amazing can be pictures you take or smart things that you say or responses that you think or things that you share or items that you give away. Actions, words, and thoughts can all be amazing.

I worry because although there is so much variety on the internet, it is also limited. Although there are so many books, a few are truly esteemed. Intelligence should not be based on listening to one professor's lecture about one part of one book by one Greek guy from thousands of years ago. If you actually listen to what old Greek guys were saying (and old French, an old Italian, and old whoever for that matter), most of the time they were encouraging you to think critically. Regurgitating information does not make it better. This does not mean there is not a time or place for showing others have others have done. I know that making things known is sometimes critical, and sharing is important. Tipping our cap is courteous, and gushing about beautiful things made by others is exciting, but right before you go to sleep, isn't it nice when you can say "Today I created something that is mine."

I have a strange fascination with reflections, & for reasons beyond seeing if my hair is in place (it isn't) and if my cat winged eyeliner has stayed in tact (it hasn't.)

In our bathroom we have two mirrors facing each other. In the mornings when I am splashing water on my face, I blink and stare into the mirror. I wiggle my nose. I poke the insides of my cheeks with my tongue. I watch the other Mes, to make sure they do the same. How many Allisons are out there? Surely my views are not really that unique.

So many of us have the same feelings, but it is what we do with those feelings that truly sets us apart. Sheer capitalism guarantees that anything that is presented at a theater or sold at a store or framed in a gallery or played on the radio, no matter how obscure the location, is liked by a multitude of other people.
It is how we respond to things that actually changes us. 

And what changes us that changes the world.

Embracing Wednesday

Good morning.! I hope your nose isn't running uncontrollably and your eyes aren't so watery that you can't read.

Boo.

Valentine's Day gave us a bit of a shake up this week, so all of the sudden my favourite thing about Mondays (other than 5:01 pm when I am home from work) is suddenly a Wednesday thing! Which is really good, because after an emotional and sweet night in on Monday and a night out full of amazing dinner on Tuesday, Wednesday morning has never looked harder because it seems like I am just working for the weekend now... I suppose this is fairly typical though, is it not? How many days of the week do people actually dislike? Mondays are popular to hate, but so many people do complain about Wednesdays and even Sundays too... is any day safe? Do you have any excellent weekly traditions I can take up? Right now, I go to near impossible trivia at a bar every Wednesday night, watch cartoons every Sunday night (LOVE) and.. uh... do the dishes with L listening to either Colin Cowherd or This American Life (Ha! A proper mix up!)... and... does Netflix count as a tradition? No? Uh...

What are yours!

***

A kitty in need makes the weekly round up indeed. I've kind of silently lurked Ghosts Waltz for a while, and admire her eerie and clever aesthetic.

Spot on, well timed, and increasingly appropriate for our modern world & workforce:

"It is not unethical for an ambitious young person in, say, Mumbai to land a job that might otherwise go to an ambitious young personin, say, Seattle, and there is no opprobrium in your helping him or her land it. Americans do not enjoy moral precedence over Indians. Some people feel we have a greater ethical duty to those closest to us — our neighbors — but in an era of global trade and travel, that is a recipe for tribalism and its attendant ills." 

-Randy Cohen

I think if I were to come down with some life threatening disease, heaven forbid, and there was a wish program thing for adults (or the young at heart!) I would ask to read letters on his show.

I'm a dork.

Ughhhh noooooo.

Duh, yes!

See what I did there?

How do you feel, especially about the second article? I think sometimes people forget to draw the line between religious and traditional, not wanting to offend.

Thank being said, 90% of people who comment on these articles... maybe 98% are huge jackasses who should have their lip stretched back up over their head.

Ouch. I just thought about that. That would hurt.

She'll Bartend Your Party is all about that pretty picture with minimalist style background I crave.

"But nobody takes photos to help bureaucracies investigate. Rather, they take photos to rage against the machine, to spur the beast into motion, to reassert some sense of control and perhaps to get some measure of revenge. How? Through the time-honoured practice of public shaming."

Deserves a "tru dat", and although not really connected, reminds me of when a bus driver jokingly clubbed a toy seal in an anti seal hunt rally. (Get a sense of humour, people.)

Kind of NSFW, but totally WTFA (What the -, Awesome!)

This is so funny because I was listening to Spark (walk, don't run to iTunes. Wait. How do I say that in a way that makes sense on the Internet?) on a drive home from Cape Breton and they discussed e-books and public access literature. I thought "I should probably get in on that."

Jackie and Bianca made it easy with their amazing looking list.

I am a complete sucker for anything cool that I can't do myself, which is a heck of a lot, but people who have been reading since the Hail Mary days will know that I am ultra obsessed with these. I wish I had a cool one of my grandparent's house to give them!

"Some theorize the text is idioglossia, a private language that only one or two people could ever decipher. The oddness of the characters suggests at the very least an argot, 'a specialized idiomatic vocabulary peculiar to a particular class or group of people, devised for private communication.'"

My brain is exploding with excitedness you guys. Secret codes and big words are definitely two or my favourite things ever! The only thing better would be to maybe discover another planet or somet- NO FRIGGIN WAY?!

Have you seen Rachel Getting Married yet? Why the heck not! Anne Hathaway's in it and she's very attractive and pretty annoying (but that's her character!) and wears a lovely green dress and will totally remind you of someone you enjoy not liking. I watched it in segments on my iPhone while on the stationary bike and I was screen capping it every five seconds. I'll share them with you if you're reaaallly nice to me.

So start complimenting my hair or something and watch it, okay?

Looking into new places to live in for September (I don't get why you keep shaking your head and saying "...obsessive, much?) means I'm thinking about what it important to me and why and such. I like nice kitchens and cheerful coloured walls and maybe cat friendly (Are you reading, L? Don't get worked up!) but I would really like a decent sized closet. It will not be one of these, but when you share something that's little more than door and wall someone for a year, you start to prioritize. 

Fun fact: When I lived at my parents' house, I had no closet! Boo.

stfuparents.tumblr.com is pretty gross right now with all the V-day placenta posts and stuff, but I await more Mommyjacking soon!

And finally, I thought I'd share the bedroom of one of my favourite bloggers: Betsey's. Beautiful, beautiful photos & inspiring choices that are distinctly hers... perfection!

***

I know this is a complete comment of the week cop out, but how on Earth can I choose just one thing that someone said when there were such insightful, intelligent, and interesting things being said in response to Spending equal time in the kitchen?! 

I recommend you laugh, smile wryly, and maybe even get a little pissed at the obnoxious stories, charming insight, and outrageously good statements made, but some of my favourite bits are....

Chelsea: "Oh! I specifically remember a time when my best friend liked a boy. She was talking to him one day and told him she was a feminist. "Oh, so you don't like boys then," he stated. She responded "Being a feminist doesn't automatically make me a lesbian." She was 12 years old."

Latest girl/blogcrush, Pomeline: "I can relate to a lot of what conflicts you. I often feel that because I have a great interest in fashion and beautiful things, I am dismissed as being "girly" and certainly not an intellectual. Why can the two not go hand in hand? Most of my classmates at university ignore that I also work over 40 hours on Parliament Hill as well as having a full course. Just because I wear tulle skirts, pumps and enjoy baking, doesn't mean I have to limit myself to being a housewife who "belongs in the kitchen"! I dream of pursuing a career in politics. I am blessed as to work for a great politician, but I struggle with the insecurities of being the minority in a male-driven environment. Being perceived as fragile and incapable of difficult tasks aggravates me to no ends: “Different skills go beyond gender”."

Faith: "My mother too is a strong woman in her field, a medical doctor with a full practice. My dad is the one who stayed home with us kids while my mom brought home the "bacon", so it seems backwards of me to suddenly be the one staying home everyday with my baby daughter while my husband earns the money. It's definitely something I struggle with, but I'm an artist and he had a higher-paying job, so it just made sense. Life will work out... I have to keep telling myself that God has a plan to make my life a fulfilled one."

Erin: "Another thing that bugs me is when a woman doing a "masculine" activity is super-sexualized. Like Megan Fox in Transformers? Aaaugh! I don't think that stuff like that moves us ahead or discourages gender roles at all."

& finally:

Vanessa, who clearly has NOT seen the state of my arms: "I can teach you how to lift a couch :-P"

But you might remember a prize was promised to everyone who read the entire article.

Put it on your fridge.

And if you do, or just print it off, snap a quick picture and email me because it would make me squeal with delight to see. And then I would be very happy for a whole entire day... because of you!

Can someone hire me my own personal graphic designer please? And maybe they can fix this blog while they are at it... 

Now, how was that? Is Wednesday better now? 

If not... there isn't much else I can do.

Go embrace it! xx

Falling in Love: A 12 Step Program

I post stuff like this so rarely, I can be allowed to be a little sappy and sentimental on Valentine's Day, no?

 Step One: Preparation

-Have a grandmother who indoctrinates you into a political party. Be so into this party that you are willing to act as errands girl for them, using your bus pass to run around the city dropping off DVDs and flier.

-Drop off a DVD somewhere out of your riding during election season. Do not do your hair that day. Make sure you are sticky from the heat and your make up is running a little bit.

-Get checked out by a guy on your way in. Roll your eyes internally.

-Drop off DVD.

-Guy says hello on your way out. Notice he's attractive and he has been hammering NDP signs into the ground all day, thus making him a charming, strong, progressive guy. Blush externally. Stutter. Walk away.

-Do not see again.

Step Two: Our Connected World

-Work yourself too hard. Do not eat enough. Get pneumonia to the point that you have to go to the hospital a few times, even staying the night.

-Spend all of your time in bed online or yelling at a television or screaming at dragons the painkillers are making you see.

-Facebook will say you have one new friend request.

-Don't recognize the guy in the picture. Realize that the picture is of a baseball player. (Later, you will know him to be Tim Lincecum.) Assume that you are hallucinating or something weird. Don't accept friend request, but send a message that asks "Who the heck are you?"

-Whatever. Go back to watching cat videos or whatever you did with you life back then.

Step Three: The Reply

-"Hi, I'm L. Remember?"

-Blush.

-"I'm sorry to see you or someone you know is in the hospital."

-Blush.

-"I hope everything gets better soon."

-Blush.

-"I'm so glad we have public health care in Canada."

-Swoon. Discuss being lefties.

-Swoon until 2:23 am.

-Go to sleep.

REPEAT x A FEW DAYS.

Step Four: The Recovery/The Start

-Pretend to be better than you actually are and decide to go out of the house.

-Meet boy at Tim Horton's, like a good Canadian. See him sitting reading The Last Season from outside the restaurant. Recognize him instantly. Be unsure. Sit down in front of him and grab the book out from under his nose and pretend to start reading it.

You will later hear, "I was actually reading The Brothers Karamazov, but I thought you would be like, 'Who the hell is this guy? What pretentious jerk reads Dostoevsky at Tim Horton's?!'"

-Smile nervously.

-Have smile returned.

-Talk.

The next few hours will consist of choosing to watch the most awkward first date movie ever (American History X) because you have no interest in the slew of mediocre comedies on his computer, listening to Bruce Springsteen, questioning if he wants to kiss you or just someone to talk to, talking about almost everything in the world, and kissing.

-Kiss again.

-Sad smiles and goodbyes.

-Kiss again.

Step Five: Before

-Have hot chocolate with your friend in an area around where he lives. This is not intentional.

-Get a text: "Uh, too soon, but want to watch the Back to the Future Trilogy when you're free tonight?"

-Yes you do.

-But it's too soon.

-You're not that kind of girl, are you?

-Hmm...

-Women's magazines will tell you not to do this. But...

-Get to the part ten minutes in when Marty McFly goes to the parking lot and then do nothing but kiss and discuss international relations. Cue more Bruce Springsteen.

Repeat all week.

-On one of the snowiest days of the year, with schools canceled and roads closed, bring him brownies. Realize he's very ill. Realize he cannot get his medication from the pharmacy. Volunteer.

-Hear "Yea, hi, drug store? Can my friend come pick up my medication instead of me if I give her my card?"

-Die a little inside.

Step Six: A Question

-Get off work.

-Ignore texts from boy.

-Take the bus to his house. Sneak into his place.

-Yell SURPRISE.

-"Will you be my girlfriend?"

-Giggle so hard you almost cry.

-"...Because I love you."

-Think you're mishearing.

-Croak it back hopefully.

-Realize you heard correctly.

-Kissing.

Step Seven: Getting to Know You

This step consists of sleepovers multiple times a week, leaving homework until the last minute because you're too busy being happy, every minute apart feeling like eternity, going to class every morning with messy hair and barely any make up, everything you do being perfect, everything he does being perfect, everything being perfect, accompanied by noodles in bed and later afternoon cooking shows and learning about baseball and of course kissing.

Step Eight: Oh no

-You mess it up.

-You are still in love.

-He is hurt.

-He is still in love.

-You both grow as people.

-Everything is good.

I repeated this a few more times than I should.

Step Nine: Oh Noooo

-The school year is over.

-He has to go home.

-"I want to spend the summer together."

-"What if we sublet a place together after I'm done working in the woods?"

-Breathlessly scan online classified ads.

Step Ten: Oh YES!

-Pack up the room you have known for the past few years.

-Take a look at the house you have lived at most of your life. Although you have lived on your own, you stayed there. Your parents moved out on you for a great period of time. You are not used to living with people. You are excited, you are scared. You want this more than anything, you are afraid you will mess it up. You need this, you are terrified of this.

-Take bags and set them on the steps of an apartment building straight out of an old time movie, with doorman and beautiful parquet floors.

-Breath.

-Smile at him.

-Eat the best dinner of your life every night. Have the best sleep of your life every night. Go to bed after cuddling and baseball. Develop a huge affinity for the Atlanta Braves.

-Everything is perfect.

-"Let's make this a permanent change" as he hands you a burger cooked on a little Hibachi grill. Listen to Lebron James make his 'Big Decision.' Make your own big decision.

-In September, move into a beautiful old house.

-Together.

Step Eleven: ...

-He messes it up.

-He is still in love.

-You are hurt.

-You are still in love.

-You both grow as people.

-Everything is good.

Step Twelve: And Beyond

-Everything is good.

-Everything is good.

-Everything is good.

-Everything is so much better than good.

There are holidays spent at his families up out of the city, and calling his grandmother every Sunday just to talk. You eat better than you ever have in your life; with coaxing and crying, you now actually eat. Everything is about sharing a bed everyone thinks it too small but you two find fantastic, walking around the area for the sake of walking, finding a new apartment for next year, joking about marriage even though you know you're too young... for a few years a least, illness and poverty and trouble that is natural and entirely between you two (never to be shared in a blog post) but always making you both stronger and better, the eventual swerve back up with new jobs and fantastic opportunities and being able to buy nice juice again and a few beer, romantic nights snuggled up watching movies with the snow dancing around outside, thinking about how lucky you are, questioning how on Earth the universe was so fantastic to you, and falling deeper and deeper in love every day.

-Looking up into his eyes and asking them, "What if I hadn't messaged you?"

-"What if you hadn't brought that DVD?"

-"What if I didn't end up loving baseball?"

-"I think you would be a great mother someday."

-"What if you gave up on me when I messed up?"

-"I can't ever give up on you."

-Everything is answered simply by knowing everything is good.

-Everything is Good.

***

Another long post! I know, I know, but it's Valentine's Day right? Put on your lipstick and kiss your hand and await the next 12 Step Program: Falling in Love with Yourself. Debate whether it is a Hallmark holiday or something pure and true but give up and collapse into eating chocolate and hugging yourself and maybe someone else. I send you all the affection a screen can send.

See you Wednesday for Embracing Monday (temporarily moved for this week only) and some deserving feminist prizes.

Spending equal time in the kitchen: being feminist vs. being lady like

Coming home after Christmas vacation to our beautiful old house and finding a toilet in the middle of the hallway coupled with a sour stench is certainly hard to beat in a “bad things to happen in one week,” but somehow he managed it. Even though L and I were filled with melancholy about not to be able to spend the few days before our roommates got home completely alone, we also understood. Our house was built to accommodate a flock of new immigrants in the 1960s and though incredibly study, everything has to be repaired sometime. We were even grateful that our landlords noticed and hired a few people to repair it over the holidays when they presumed we would not be there. No, we were counting our blessings even though we were considering purchasing bedpans and a thin layer of dust coated everything. I do not even hate him as much as I abhor the concept of it, laugh at the ridiculousness of it, and roll my eyes at the thought that beings like him still exist in this modern world.

“You’ve got yourself a good woman!” Those words alone can be ignored but the sentiment behind them cannot.

We started grateful for the hammering in our washroom. People working in our bathroom on New Year’s Day was something we did not expect, and we had every intention of being nice people and rewarding the workers with whatever two students could do. Our ultimate solution was a breakfast; scrambled eggs and bacon are the best thank yous one could get, right? I whipped away at the eggs as L paid attention to the crisp slices in the pan. Our efforts were well received. It started a pattern. We fed them as they fixed our washroom. I made tea. As the days went on, we were annoyed with the amount of time they were taking, but it was also okay.

After preparing pasta and serving it to them, he leered to L who was sitting in the living room and was not hungry for supper, “A woman who cooks and cleans for you. You got it the way it should be, buddy!”

"The way it should be."

I make him food and he dismisses it as a role instead of a gesture of kindness. He must be kidding, please say he’s making a joke flashes through my mind as I accept that yes, there is good humor in his voice but no, he is completely serious. This guy is barely 40 years old. It is not a ‘generational thing.’

A thank you to me would have sufficed.

Months earlier, L and I were recounting the details of a dreadful night of drunken fighting between friends. Stuck in a cottage for the night, we sat through a break up (and consequent "get back together"), name calling, screaming, three people crying, some running away and... I do not really remember what else because I definitely did not get any sleep that night. When explaining the story to L's Nanny, she sighed, "What has happened to all the young ladies?"

I was secretly hurt. This woman, who I had championed in my heart, was one of the most progressive people I knew. A strong advocate of birth control and someone who had held a career despite being married, my heart jumped into my throat as I heard the phrase "young ladies" uttered. Later that night, doing a quick scan through of the day's events in my head I thought about my emotions at the time and almost laughed. What was wrong with being a lady anyways? When did that become like an 'L word' to feminists? Er... the other 'L word.'

I related to L's nanny more than I realized at the time. My current house dynamic is different than that of my ultra progressive and macho mother. My mom's idea of raising a strong woman was to make me excel at everything that was traditionally labeled as masculine. This is problematic, because in our society it seems like anything that does not have a gender role attached to it is automatically a male thing. Unless something is specifically feminine, the pronouns we attach to it are male. Most people are not even trying to offend; it is the way our language has been shaped. That does not make it right, but it is worth acknowledging as real. Anyways, my mother, who was the first female Canadian to occupy a specific job in her field, saw my existence as a way to stick it to the guys who made her life difficult in college. Somehow having a daughter who excelled at math would teach those men who hijacked her project or talked down to her. My mother's experiences did not make her dislike men at all; she has many more male friends, but the desire to show the world what a strong woman can do became her ultimate goal.

I did not achieve this goal, or at least not her initial vision. Although I pursue a career, it is not in sciences. Despite hours of extra tutelage a week, I was slightly below mediocre at average level math. For reasons unrelated to femininity, I find it more comfortable to wear skirts and dresses. I have not worn pants, even jeans, in years. However, polar oppositely, it has been much longer since my mother wore a skirt.

When my mother is biking 45 minutes ever morning uphill to her technologist job at the hospital, I am making tea for my boyfriend. I make better tea than him. When a bed or coach needs to be moved, I do not hesitate to call L's name. I do the majority of the laundry, although this is mostly out of my finicky soul. If L ever put my Swiss dot sheer tights in the dryer by accident or hot water washed my bias cut blue silk pencil skirt, I might start to fume out of my ears. A generous spirit, I sometimes allow him to move plain, dark wash, cotton shirts from the washer to the dryer. I do not peg him into the "dumb male" dopey dad stereotype that advertisers show for 'laffs', but let's be frank; why would he ever need to know how to launder a silk shirt? He's not Emilio Estevez.

Just as he will never need to decide if mustard yellow ("Yellow is a light colour... but this is a dark shade of yellow... WHY?!") constitutes light wash or dark wash, I am content with my inability to lift a sofa. I am all for getting stronger and improving health, I do not foresee any reason I will ever need to lift so much. I am 4'9. My body is not built for that. I know my place, and although it is not "in the kitchen" (nice one), when we moved into my house this summer I decided maybe my efforts would be better spent walking to the store to buy my four male roommates cola than essentially attempting suicide by sliding a book shelf up stairs. I am not an advocate of leaving work to the boys. I am not suggesting that women are happier serving men as many misguided minds think this proves. I am simply contributing the same amount to a common goal but in different ways. I would never ask someone who spoke French to translate an Italian novel. Different skills go beyond gender, and to live your life as if they do not, even if it means doing them just to prove a point, is idiotic.

This is how I come to terms being ladylike on your average day in a modern society where I may want to stomp through the streets and scream about my right to choose at any minute. I also expect men to be 'gentlemen.' Of course, we could just call both things charm, consideration, and politeness, but such non gendered terms do not carry the same weight. Being polite can just mean not putting your feet up on my freshly painted coffee table. I want society to go beyond that.

This is not to say my mentality is functional at all times. Canada is a fantastic country to live in, where the polarization between the 'progressive' and 'traditional' is not really that large, especially when compared to what I hear from my American friends. I am also not a female politician, where they are expected to have shouting matches during question period at the House, which obviously favours those whose biology makes them have louder voices. Evening out the sexist systems we still have set up are complicated. Do we teach women to yell as loud as they can for the time being and duke it out? Or do we work towards changing the system so it is not acceptable to simply scream when someone else is talking? Does the average Canadian care or even know how much politics has to do not with promises or charisma but simply being heard? I am entirely sure there is comparable ludicrousness in parliament elsewhere in the world.    

I know I have not figured it out. I did not expect to resolve the fears of being walked over. Maybe all I have done is justify myself after thinking that I have let my strong, decidedly not 'feminine' mother down. The phrase uttered by the toilet repairman still bothers me, even though further conversations with him proved that he was ignorant in many other departments, not simply gender roles. And just so you know, I did say something back. I told him L was an excellent cook as well, and us taking turns and doing everything we can to make the other person happy is 'the way it should be.' In true l'esprit d'escalier, I wish I had told him I was not a "good woman", I am a good person.   

In the WNBA, people love to point out how hard it is for women to dunk a basketball, something that is still not that common even in the NBA. On average, women have a much lower vertical jump then men based simply on centers of gravity. I do not go to the science museum and laugh at how men cannot hold a disc and spin around on a magnetic platform. But why does it matter? Spending my life worrying that some idiot might stereotype me is not only unpractical, but ineffective. Anyone uneducated enough to make such comments will do it whether I am wearing a skirt or not. Let me make tea! It should not affect my career goals or being perceived as strong at all. Let's not make it bout jumping as high as the boys. 

Let's just try to fly.  

This was a lot of writing for a Friday morning. If you finished this, you get a prize! Okay, maybe not a big one, but if you finish this, let me know, and something just might happen.  

Do you ever feel like your activities or interests are dismissed as "girlish"? Does this bother you? Do you consider yourself political? If so, would you ever be a politician? How do you think we can turn political girls into women who are politicians? Do you think it is the system or just a quality in the majority of women? Are you scared that being a mother will interfere with your career (in terms of off hours and etc.)? Can you lift a sofa? If so, can you teach me?

Detail Oriented February

... Because sometimes it is better to let images do talking when your brain is struggling to coming up with words that do not sound stupid. Until this head cold passes, I hope these things which have stuck in my mind cheer up your Wednesday!

Consistently grateful for Cool Hunting videos, Kate Spade, this is glamorous, Wallpaper Weekly, Rachel Getting Married and possibly one or two more that are escaping my mind (apologies!) Also, all the screencaps and collaging are thanks to the lovely abilities of my phone.

Embracing Monday

Coming down from a weekend high can be hard! 

I cannot give you bumpy pond skating, endless scouring of secret corners of your city, a satisfying work out, or anything else that might have made leaving the best two days of the week less treacherous, but I can show you books about feelings, Nazi resisters, a lot of heart, and a reason to believe! Are you ready?

It's the thought that counts, but it only counts if you put thought in!

Definitely who I would choose too. I'm glad someone thought he was Nova Scotian. Reee preee sent!

Sometimes I really need posts like these that make me sigh and smile and remind me I'm kind of somewhat normal. What magazines do you read? 

"Newspapers should be a force for good. But sometimes they do evil, recklessly. Rolling Stone, a Ugandan tabloid not connected to the U.S. magazine, published photographs of Mr. Kato, and other gay Ugandans, with their addresses, and an inciting headline, “Hang them.” Another headline read, “We Shall Recruit 1,000,000 Innocent Kids by 2012: Homos.”"

"Birds living around the site of the Chernobyl nuclear accident have 5% smaller brains, an effect directly linked to lingering background radiation."

 

This is probably a little better than my current ideas for decorating my room: THROW PILLOWS EVERYWHERE. SEE WHAT HAPPENS.

Also, I have never wanted a lampshade so badly in my life.

Because Snuggies were not enough.

Because not enough cats.

Lovely, glorious, pretty, imaginative, exciting, swoon worthy... basically, You Might Like This is too good for words.

This is a really big deal in Canada and I am unsure if it is receiving the same accolades elsewhere. It is perfect if you like books that start like watching the ocean waves until all of the sudden everything explodes. No, I can not say it better than that, so do not ask what I am talking about.

Do not watch this at night / do not watch this alone / do not watch this is you like clean endings / do not watch this if you like endings at all / do not watch this after possibly smoking a bit of something or other / do not watch this if you do not have a beer you are sipping on in hand...

... but if you like to have your mind served on a platter to you... watch this.

Some of this is only about sports, and those are not the parts I devour as much. Honest and makes you want to cry in the best and worst way, Believeland only makes me believe more.

Guess who!: "During World War II, she was a frequent performer at German Forces social gatherings in occupied France, and many considered her a traitor; following the war she stated that she had been working for the French Resistance. While there is no evidence of this, it does seem to be true that she was instrumental in helping a number of individuals (including at least one Jew) escape Nazi persecution. Throughout it all, she remained a national and international favorite. Piaf dated a Jewish pianist during this time and co-wrote a subtle protest song with Monnot. According to one story, singing for high-ranking Germans at the One Two Two Club earned Piaf the right to pose for photographs with French prisoners of war, to boost their morale. The Frenchmen were supposedly able to cut out their photos and use them as forged passport photos."

Monday's ism is Riism: because Esperanto is really cool and building on it is even cooler. However, will changing it too much change what Esperanto is about?

See the thing is...  I need one so bad. Stereotypically bad at math. but you guessed that, didn't you?

***

This week, I would love to tip my hat to the eloquent yet anonymous Claire, who told us,

 "I liked this post a lot. Despite my commitment to recycling and love of reusable bags and water bottles, I do feel like I forget about the environment from time to time, and I think it's definitely because it lacks a face for me. I think of the frightening graphs in An Inconvenient Truth, but frankly when global warming is laid out like that, it makes all the small green things I do seem insignificant.

That being said, I'm positive I don't want a car when I'm older. I don't have my license yet (I could have it, I just haven't gotten around to it), but when I do get it I suppose I'll drive my parents' cars around on occasion, but the bus and subway system that's been transporting me around the city since I was 13 continues to serve me just fine. I suppose once I'm done with high school and college I could end up in a city where it's simply not feasible to live life without a car, but I'm going to try my hardest not to let that happen." on Wikipedia Search: Isadora Duncan. 

It's hard to think that you can make a difference sometimes, is it not? 

But it is not. So go out and give a coat away for free, buy a pack of fum for your friend who is try to quit smoking, use and reuseable bag and think of Claire, tidy your magazine pile, and have an extraordinary Monday!

PS: I am playing around with font & layout quite a bit this week. Don't be worried if things look wonky for the next few days. They will (hopefully) look good soon!

Wikipedia Search: Isadora Duncan

“[Isadora] Duncan’s fondness for flowing scarves was the cause of her death in a freak automobile accident in Nice, France. Duncan’s large silk scarf while still draped around her neck, became entangled around one of the vehicle’s open-spoked wheels and rear axle, breaking her neck.”

-Wikipedia on Isadora Duncan

Shit.

In 1902 Ransom Olds started to produce an affordable automobile at his Oldsmobile factory and the vicious vehicles have run rampant on a killing spree across the country ever since. Sure, there are now “safety” “tests” “done” by “people” “at” “companies” but traffic related deaths remain the number one cause of injury based deaths in the world today. I blame this largely on the fact that if you stare at most cars head on, you can kind of make faces out of their parts, especially if you picture the mirrors as being ears.

These faces always look evil.

However, I will not pretend I am above cars. Frequently I am seduced by the sexiness of being able to get somewhere in the rain without getting wet, or the sheer speed of not having to watch a cheap university student argue the fare of the bus at the front while the rest of us wait to get to our desired location. Oh, it used to be two dollars? And now it’s two dollars and twenty five cents? Disgusting, yes, please continue to decry our ‘fascist capitalist’ public transportation system like a young Trotsky. Fight for the middle class, you revolutionary, before you go off to buy your five dollar coffee accompanied by an Italian breakfast pastry whose name I cannot pronounce! You are truly a champion of the suffering. Please, pursue your undoubtedly well intentioned but useless degree with nobility as you call me a sell out for going with something that it relevant to today’s economic market. You will save the world by yelling at bus drivers! I will contribute to the semi socialist country we live in by paying taxes because I will have something called a job. But I digress.

Anyways, yes, every now and then I am indeed ‘seduced’ by the desire to get a drive from someone, or hop in a cab. Please keep in mind, I use the word seduced as a metaphor. I do not intend to further the ridiculous stereotype perpetuated by advertisers that if you buy their brand of car I will be magnetized over and wash it in a bikini while eating a hamburger. That is so stupid; I would never risk getting soap suds in my hamburger. Anyways, this is a different kind of seduction. The difference between being seduced by a car and being seduced by my boyfriend is that my boyfriend’s emissions are much nicer. And smell better. And don’t pollute the planet… as much. (Sorry for the TMI? But jokes like these are so easy to make!)

Cars are bad for that. They hate the planet. Cars make genocide a verb and do it to air all the time. I know genocide is a strong word, but I’ve always wanted to be able to compare a Hummer to a Nazi.

To continue the metaphor, Hummers are no longer being made. Let’s hope that in the future that will work both ways.

Anyways, I do not need to tell you cars are bad for the environment. Al Gore does that, and I am not as eloquent nor as capable to deliver a speech on the environment without saying “**** guys, we ****ing ****ed this ****  up” as he. But my point is, you know it, and you know it well. Cars make bad stuff and then the good stuff dies and we’re full of bad and well… cars kill people. Cars kill a lot of people, for a lot of different reasons. However, people also kill people, and I guess I have not completely given up on those yet.

But this brings us to the other side of the argument:

Scarves.

They keep you warm and look good. They drape themselves happily over your body. Sometimes they are itchy, but we understand that scarves are like people: some of them are made of wool. Oh. Wait. I mean scarves are like people: all of them are different. Some of them are made of wool, and they only scratch us to keep us at our warmest. In fact, scarves can cover our hair in the rain or protect our neck in the cold while we are walking to be bus stop because we are mad at cars. Scarves also sometimes make me feel pretty, which no car has ever done. Scarves are a hug around your neck every morning, even when everything else is going wrong. Scarves are like lovers: easy to lose and but hard to break. I only wish that old lovers were turned into the Lost & Found.

So go ahead society. Use your engines and go fast with all your whirring parts, clicking noises, wheels turning, specific but varied oils, funny smells and complicated genius. I have learned how to be made happy by a piece of cloth around my neck, and I find that much smarter.

In a world with so many issues, do you ever find you forget about the environment?/ Does the environment have a "face" for you? (Example: My passion for helping Darfur started largely after seeing images of people suffering)/ Realistically, do you think you will own a car when you are "grown up"?/ Which is worse, people in the country owning cars to get from place to place or cities turning into big urban sprawls and pushing out all the wildlife?