Oopsie...I missed some things

Have I missed several major events worth blogging about in my absence?  Yes.  Can I offer a valid explanation?  Not really.  Life just sort of got in the way for a while.

How have you been?


Me?  I've been busy.  Since you last read me, I've been back to Vancouver for a much needed visit in October; I've been to Toronto for training and a much needed visit with several friends; I've been diagnosed with Hypoglycemia after an unfortunate mishap at work; Babe's been diagnosed Celiac as an indirect result of my unfortunate mishap at work; and I've experienced my first xmas in another language.

In between all of this stuff, the world has continued to shock, amaze, amuse, delight, terrify, and haunt me.

In October, suffering from a tear-inducing lack of hugs from my parents, I finally took a leap and booked expensive "cheap" round trip flights for Etienne and myself to Vancouver.  As it was his first time going anywhere west of Niagara Falls, I tried to take it easy on him and still show him some of the things about Vancouver worth missing.  We stayed downtown, and we went across the border to Bellingham to shop; we took the seabus to North Vancouver and wandered around the Lonsdale Quay; we took the Skytrain to Metrotown; we wandered through Gastown and he enjoyed the furniture stores there; and we visited with mum and dad and the dog.  He met some of my Vancouver friends, and we got the dreaded meeting with Rod over with.  Overall, it was a brief, but much needed trip home.  He like Vancouver instantly, and should we move there, he's already got neighbourhoods picked out!

In November, I went to Toronto to be trained as a Speaker/Ambassador for Dying with Dignity.  It was an emotional and informative day, as we were required to tell a 5 minute story about ourselves and our experiences with choice in dying.  You can imagine what you might feel like after 15 people tell their stories...but it was necessary.  While I was doing that, Etienne enjoyed himself by going to the Art Gallery of Ontario and the Hockey Hall of Fame.  During that trip, he met some more MPPers who are now transplanted to Toronto, as well as my dear friends Olaf and Rick.  The friends conspired to show us (me) a good time by arranging for us to attend a Strip Spelling Bee.  Yes, you read that right.  Strip Spelling Bee.  I also had the opportunity to introduce Etienne to Gail
who is one of the most incredible people I've ever had the privilege of meeting.  So Toronto was a quick trip, but packed with good times.


Now, you're probably curious about the medical issues I've mentioned.  Well, it's a long story, but I'll try to give you the cliffnotes.  It was just a few days after the last blog post in September.  I was sitting (important!) at my desk, working away on nothing stressful, when I suddenly felt very dizzy.   You tend not to get dizzy when sitting, so I knew something was wrong.  My pulse sped up, and I started to get sweaty.  I was afraid it was another anxiety attack, but for one, I wasn't stressed, and for two, this was unlike my prior experiences.  I emailed Etienne downstairs and told him I was in distress.  With his help, I got down on the floor in case I did faint, and from there, things went down hill fast.  An ambulance was called, I was given glucose orally, and taken to the hospital in Hull for what turned out to be an 8 hour wait without seeing a doctor.  We left and came home on the understanding that I would go to the clinic in the morning.  At this point, "Hypoglycemia" had been tossed around (in French) enough for me to get an idea of what the nurse and paramedics were thinking.  Etienne had been feeling "off" for months, so he decided to come with me to the clinic and get checked out.  We set off and when we came out from the exam rooms, we each had a sheet ordering blood tests: a two-hour glucose test for me, and for him...well, it would be quicker to list the things NOT checked off for them to test in him.  The doctor he saw indicated that he thought Etienne might have Celiac's Disease.

Since my test required a 12 hour fast, I had to wait yet another day to go, so very early in the morning, I made my way to the lab, sucked down a bottle of flat orange soda-like stuff, and sat down to wait.  For the first hour, I was fine.  I read, and I watched people come and go.  But into the second hour, I started to feel tired.  Then I felt drunk.  Finally I felt sick.  By that time, I didn't need a blood test to figure it out: I am hypoglycemic.  Not a huge surprise to me; my gramma had Type 2 Diabetes for the last 13 year of her life, and daddy was diagnosed with Type 2 as well in his 50s.  It was inevitable, really.  Aboriginals have a higher likelihood of developing Diabetes.  When the doctor did get the results, he confirmed it.  He called it "Pre-diabetic."  I can guess at it, but I think what that means is that I'm getting blood sugar, but insulin is eating it up pretty fast.  Etienne's test took longer to come back, but they confirmed that he did in fact have Celiac's Disease, though the results seemed to indicate that it wasn't a particularly bad case.

Since then, we've both had to make serious adjustments to our lifestyle.  For me, I've had to try my best to shift to five smaller meals a day and snacking in between (the results have been fair...I need to see a dietician to get a better idea of what I'm supposed to be doing); but poor Etienne's had a worse go of it.  For one thing, he's a vegetarian.  So he can't exactly start chowing down more meat to replace the loss of many gluten products.  He's also had to experiment with different gluten-free foods to try to find what works best.  But the hardest part was giving up the beer.  He's found some gluten-free beer-like beverages which he's okay with, but I can tell he misses a good Guinness.  So there's that sob story.  We're doing better, though I have the occasional setback when my blood sugar will drop in a matter of minutes unexpectedly.  I haven't gotten used to how quickly it can happen.

Over the xmas weekend, we went to Montreal to be with Etienne's family.  His brother moved to North American this summer, and his sister and her fiancee are here for a school year, so his mother decided to come over for the holidays.  They are aware that I comprehend some French, but I can't speak it, so they are patient with me.  But there are members of the extended family who have no patience with me, so it was awkward at times.  I felt like I was an intruder, as though I didn't belong there, like I should not be a part of Etienne's life.  I wouldn't say there was hostility at my being an anglophone, but I will say that very little effort was made to engage me by those in the family who are new to me.  It made me miss xmas with my family all the more, because there I would be comfortable and welcomed.  Next year, my French should be improved, but I don't think I'll look back on this xmas season as a fond one. 

So there is the quick (long) version of important events that have occurred since September 24th.  Next time, I'll try to have my groove back, since there is much in the world and my life worth commenting on.

Slowly put down the Facebook, and back away...

There comes a time when people have had enough.  For some, the build-up is gradual, starting out as accepting, tolerant, even happy about change, but then becoming more disillusioned with the pace and/or type of change.  For others, the reaction is almost instantaneous, and they pull the rip cord early, not wanting to be a part of what follows.  Friends...after 5+ years together, I am bugging out on Facebook. 

It's been great finding some old friends, keeping up with new ones, and it's been awkward watching events unfold in the lives of some.  But it's not new anymore, and people don't have the same enthusiasm that they once did.  I can't think of the last time I was invited to an event sent out by friends that *wasn't* a craft fair, promotional nightclub party, or social justice event.  I don't need to get into how I feel about invites to Farmville or Bejeweled.  And I'm tired of being told by companies to "Like" something or join them on Facebook for special deals.

People are just making shit up, forming groups, and others are joining because they are amused by the name, such as this group:

"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." — Marilyn Monroe

People don't interact here.  They just like the page title.   

Facebook has undergone likely dozens of iterations in the last five years that I've been on it (to say nothing of those who have been on since 2004), and it seems that the changes they are constantly making are creating a type of superficial social interaction at best.  "So-and-so likes Lamp."  And then we all as friends decide...do we "like" their post?  Do we comment, "LOL, nice"?  And that's what qualifies as "keeping up with friends" in the Facebook universe?

Does anyone remember when you actually had to write a status update, and people wrote back on your wall?  How often these days do we even visit the walls of our friends?  We just see what goes on in our feeds.

With the latest round of updates that Facebook has done, we know have a little sidebar telling us what our friends are doing, right beside the live feed which tells us what our friends have been doing.  We have reached a stage where we have a Facebook on our Facebook page.

The dozens of iterations have me thinking that the nice people at Facebook have short attention spans, and they seem intent on creating a space that encourages it as well.  I liked some of the early changes, but lately, it's just become such a big drama.  Privacy this, security that, picture-viewers, blah blah blah...


I'm taking my business to Twitter.

The Eulogy

As you know, I'm always trying to find myself; I lose myself in the damnedest places...by the water's edge...a deep, personal experience...in music...Ottawa.  I know the way I do things doesn't make sense to a lot of people, which has led me to question how I appear to others, but when I tried to formulate an answer, I either despaired of the possible results, or I experienced confusion.  

One night, in yet another self-indulgent effort to sort this out, I began to draft something that some might find...well...creepy, depressing, or ghoulish.  I began to draft my own eulogy.  My mother would berate me if she knew, as if somehow superstition will overcome reality, and I'll actually bring about my death by tempting it with end of life considerations.  Anyway, minus the redacted bits to protect the identity of some people named, here is the draft product.  No doubt, it will be an evergreen exercise that will only end when I do...

It is announced with a mix of emotions that Fancy Christine Poitras has passed away.  Before passing, she took some time to reflect and write this eulogy, because she loved two things: irony, and having the last word.  Hard to know, but loving and loyal towards those who managed the task, Fancy will be remembered for her frankness, love of the Detroit Red Wings, and pride in her accomplishments.

Fancy was born on ____________, which would play a very significant role in her life to come.  She was the youngest child of ____ and _______ Poitras, and the baby sister of _________________, _____________, and ___________.  Meant to be born on her father’s birthday, Fancy took her time instead, putting the world on notice that she marched to her own beat, did things in her own time, and usually on her own terms.  Her mother kindly described her as ‘determined.’ 

It took many years for Fancy to express that pride in herself and her life; she was unsure of herself growing up, and lacked confidence, which was a stumbling block for her in important aspects of her life.  She went to three colleges and universities, and was registered in no less than 6 majors or programs before she found enough confidence to pursue her passion in social sciences.  She graduated from the University of Alberta in 2005 with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Political Science.  Not satisfied with that, she quickly moved on to Vancouver, where she enrolled in school again.  In 2007, she completed a Post-baccalaureate diploma in Social Policy Issues at Simon Fraser University, with an eye on a bigger goal; she applied and was accepted to the Master's of Public Policy program at Simon Fraser University in 2008, and completed her degree in 2010.  All of these accomplishments would not have been possible if not for her growth in confidence…she was finally comfortable in her skin. 

Fancy had a special gift for finding herself in unusual situations and strange positions; all too often, life had a way of happening to her.  Ever the trooper, she adapted to her circumstances, though not without substantial whining and complaining beforehand.  It was this knack for the unusual that taught her to grow up and take everything as a lesson.  For instance, she learned that it was a bad idea to go running downhill, directly into an oncoming bike going downhill…she never again run down into ditches when there was oncoming traffic, but she was able to proudly announce to anyone she met that she was likely the only person they had ever met who had been run over by a bicycle.

That knack for letting life happen to her that led her to Rodney, her first husband.  They met in 1998 when she moved into a room on Main Henday, a residence tower at the University of Alberta.  They remained friends until they began dating in 1999, and eventually married in 2008.  They divorced in 2010, but remained supportive, caring friends until death.  At the same time as the divorce, Fancy moved to Ottawa to embark on her career in Policy Analysis, where she began a relationship with Etienne shortly after her arrival.   ...

Fancy was conflicted, because she spent too much time thinking about everything, but there were some immutable truths which she stood by for life: family, first.  She loved her family deeply, and was very close to her mother, _______, and spoiled by her loving father, ____.  ...

In the end she finally concluded that there was something about her that was never meant to be understood, just loved.

So...*awkward silence*

Karen O'Keefe: Comedienne-at-Large*

Sorry for the pun, Karen, I could not help myself.

So, I have this friend, Karen. She and I were friends in high school, and she's one of the few people from my grad class that I still keep in touch with (and have more interaction than just being friends on facebook). Over the years, I've watched Karen O'Keefe evolve: I've known her as a stand-out teenager who just did things her own way; I've known her to be a talented graphic designer; and I've "seen" (without ever having any of her shows) develop into an amateur comedienne on the road in Alberta.

Now it seems that she's gone all "Mary Tyler Moore" on the world. She moved there this summer to turn pro at her new profession; she is still doing comedy shows, but now she's jumping headlong into the acting sandbox! So, if you know of anyone in the Toronto area who is searching for the next big talent, look this lady up!

*Note: Karen is certainly talented, and as an added bonus, she is quite distinctive and stands out in a crowd...literally; Karen is 6 feet tall.

People tell me I'm smart and I believe them...

Warning: Hubris ahead. Horrible, horrible hubris. We're talking pride...arrogance...some other adjective with the same meaning (too lazy to look one up)...awful, sinful, prideful hubrisiness.

I've got a secret.

Ready?

I'll wait...

*Muzak plays, I'm sitting here with a frozen smile on my face*

Okay. Here goes...

I'm smart.

Or so I'm told I hear.

Okay, I'll cut out the buffoonery now; this post is really a plea to those who know me, love me, adore me, etc...please stop overselling me.

I know, I know, what a horrible problem to have...people have confidence in me, and they go about telling other people that I'm smart, and then I have these puzzling expectations to live up to. Look, the thing is, it's bad enough when I fail to live up to these expectations (Really, Lance? 'super smart?'), but it's worse because if I fail to live up to description, it makes the person who sold me as smart look like a bad judge of character.

***

This whole post, as you might be able to tell, is an inside joke, and it's dedicated to someone who "just happened to be there at a 'You-had-to-be-there'" moment; I've been thinking about you lately because I was cleaning out some things and pulled out the magic shoes. Hopefully some little girl from a reserve that was evacuated due to forest fires is playing in those shoes right now, and even though she'll never understand what I went through to earn those shoes, you and I know :) Be well, friend.

Life and the Movies

Would Melvin Udall and Carole the Waitress survive in real life? For those of you who have seen the famous compliment scene in 'As Good As It Gets', starring Jack Nicholson, Helen Hunt, and Greg Kinnear, you likely enjoy that moment when Jack, soul as beared as it could be for his character, gives Helen's upset Carol the compliment of a lifetime after a real gaffe...

Melvin Udall: I don’t get this place. They make me buy a new outfit, and they let you in in a house dress. I don’t get it. [Carol gets up, upset] What? What, no wait, why? Where you going? Why? I mean, I…uh. I didn’t mean it that way, I mean…you gotta sit down. You can
still give me the dirty look, just sit down and give it to me.

Carol Connelly: Pay me a compliment, Melvin. I need one. Quick. You have no idea how much what you just said hurt my feelings.

Melvin Udall: The monominute somebody gets that you need them they threaten to go away. Never fails.

Carol Connelly: That's not compliment, Melvin...That's just trying to sound smart so I feel stupid... A compliment is something nice about somebody else...Now or never.

Melvin Udall: Okay.

Carol Connelly: [reluctantly sits] And mean it...

Melvin Udall: Can we order first? [shouting at a waiter at another table] Two crab dinners and pitcher of cold beer. [to Carol] Uh, baked or fries?

Carol Connelly: [embarrassed, whispers] Fries. [again, louder] Fries.

Melvin Udall: [calling to the waiter] One baked -- one fried.

Startled Waiter: [shouting back] I'll tell your waiter.

Melvin Udall: Okay, now...I got a really great compliment for you, and it's true.

Carol Connelly: I'm so afraid you're about to say something awful.

Melvin Udall: Don't be pessimistic, it's not your style. Okay, here I go: clearly, a mistake. I got this, what - ailment? My doctor, a shrink that I used to go to all the time, he says that in fifty or sixty percent of the cases, a pill really helps. I *hate* pills; very dangerous thing, pills. Hate. I'm using the word "hate" here, about pills. Hate. My compliment is, that night when you came over and told me that you would never...uh, alright, you were there, you know what you said. Well, my compliment to you is, the next morning, I started taking the pills.

Carol Connelly: I don't quite get how that's a compliment for me.

Melvin Udall: You make me want to be a better man.

Carol Connelly: [stunned]...That's maybe the best compliment of my life.

Melvin Udall: Well, maybe I overshot a little, because I was aiming at just enough to keep you from walking out.

And of course, after this, the moment goes downhill, first to awkward, then to disaster as Melvin says something that upsets Carol so much, she storms out. Some strange events happen, including a homeless gay artist, some nude sketches, an odd couple situation, and a surreal make-up scene that leads to them wandering the streets of New York at 4:30 am, deciding to give it a try, despite the challenges his personality (and to a lesser extent, his personality disorder) present.

After the couple walk into a bakery that is just opening for the day, I'm left to wonder...what they survive in real life? Do they keep going, accepting the implications of his personality and his disorder as being as good as it gets? Or does another serious gaffe on his part (or her part...could happen) somewhere down the road push that relationship over the edge? I'm curious.

I'm also curious about one other thing...assuming this relationship can go the distance...how do you ever beat a compliment like that if you have to?

The next chapter...

So, I had a heart-fluttering, butterfly-tummied moment this afternoon:

Next week, when I get paid, I'm registering to write the Graduate Record Examine, more commonly known as the GRE. Why? Because it seems that every graduate school in the US requires it if you are not from the US (or in many cases, even if you are!) as part of the admissions requirements.

And why am I writing the GRE which is so necessary for grad schools in the US? Because I've given serious, thoughtful consideration to a crazy idea...

A Ph.D.

At Harvard.

"OMG, Fancy, are you an idiot?"

Well, I hardly think I have to dignify that question with a response to those of you still wandering in and out of my blog for the last 5 years. Duh! The answer is obviously YES. But, I'm a special brand of idiot...the kind willing to take the risk in case it works out.

Remember back in 2005, when I foolishly babbled on about the possibility of being good enough for grad school? Once I got over my childish fears of rejection, I realized that I was good enough for grad school, and there was no turning back! I was so set on this goal, I picked only one school, uprooted my entire life (and Rod's while I was at it), and moved to Vancouver. I faltered only slightly over the summer of 2006, but then I found the solution to my problems (a maddening lack of references and a GPA a touch under 3.0): the Post-Baccalaureate Diploma in Social Policy Issues at Simon Fraser University. I entered in January 2007 and finished in December 2007 with a 3.77 GPA, excellent references, and a semester on the Honour Roll. Me...the one who never believed I was good enough.

I was. I got into the only program I applied to, the Master's of Public Policy at SFU, and I succeeded.

So why is it so crazy to think I could pull this off? Granted, it's Harvard; I hear all the time about top-tier candidates not making the cut. Which is why I'm not totally stupid...I'm also looking at three other excellent programs at excellent schools. Harvard is a stretch, but like others who have taken a chance on me, they wouldn't be disappointed. Let's put it this way...Harvard University is the vanity choice: I make the cut, wow, that's...strange, but cool; I don't...well, hey, it won't be for a lack of Trying.

Who knows?