Tuesday, February 24, 2009

I thought I had nothing to say...

*Pauses for momentary tribute to Michael Corleone*

Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!

*Returns to regularly scheduled posting*

You know, this debate about the content of blogs sort of sticks in my craw (remind me to look up the origins of that phrase some day); I fully understand and accept that there are certain strictures that need to be abided by when it comes to posting content about Work. That's not what bothers me. What bothers me is when I feel like I am not allowed to post about my feelings and perceptions, because it may cost me a job. Responsible blogging is one thing, but living with the fear that I may lose a job (or not even be considered for one) based on what I've written in my blog in the past...that goes beyond responsibility, and I don't mind saying it treads lightly on the line leading to censorship.

It occurs to me now, when I am indeed on the hunt for a co-op job for this summer, that prospective employers can and will google yours truly, and find the unabashed writings and rantings of a big mouth (yes, that's me.), and the institutionalized Grad Student in me creases her brow at the idea that they might will find some reason to skip my name on the interview sheet, without giving me the opportunity to dazzle them with my skills and talents. In other words, I'm back to the same place I was 15 years ago, worrying about what others think of me before they get to know me. And it's completely juvenile.

The big mouth in me arches her eyebrow and says "Talk to me first; if you don't like me after that, C'est la vie." Do I stand by what I've written in my blog? Well, let's put it this way...I'd go mad if I didn't have an outlet for my expressive opinions, and short of doing anyone harm, I see no reason to feel ashamed for what I've written. At the time of each post, I had a good reason, and that's in light of the fact that I'm much more measured and deliberate in my writing than I am in other forms of communication.

My blog is my journey, and I own it. Do I self-censor? You bet! I could say a lot of things (I'm blunt enough to be sure), but I don't because I strive for tact (and record some misses on that account, but such is my nature).

...when I write my blog, it's usually because I have something to say.

Friday, February 13, 2009

If you didn't already know...

This stupid thing is making the rounds on Facebook, but for some reason I'd rather put it here. Possibly because fewer people read this blog, so there's a pathetic kind of safety in this little measure of anonymity.

So presenting....

25 Things you never knew about me…


1. I was once accused of stealing from a classmate’s family store. Indignant at the accusation, I went back to the store after school to clear things up, only to find out they suspected one of my friends, and my classmate misunderstood.


2. I have a fear and loathing of fish. There’s something so gross and so dead about them, they are an unnatural conspiracy against Planet Earth.


3. I have a scar on the back of my right thigh from a knife wound. A classmate found a knife in the woods behind our school playground, and wanted to see if it was sharp, so he took a swipe at my leg (instead of, you know, a leaf or some grass). We had to walk to his house beside the school to clean and dress the considerable, bloody slash, and lie to his grandfather (a teacher) about how it happened.


4. I once had an audition for the Yellowknife Youth Choir, but I was so terrified about being judged by Bill Gilday, I didn’t show up. If I had, there’s no question I would have gotten in, because my friends did, and I was at least as good as they were.


5. I was accepted to a summer French Immersion program in Quebec, expenses paid, and declined because my boyfriend at the time didn’t want me to go.


6. I was the only kid in my grade 3 class who memorized the entire poem “In Flanders Field” because it was assigned for homework. Talk about brownie points!


7. I was the Grade 6 Trivia Champion, winning the most weekly competitions throughout the year. Too bad my grades weren’t better for it!


8. I was a practicing Wiccan in high school, which set things up for an interesting dynamic…a pagan at a Catholic high school. But my teachers were good sports about it, if my principal wasn’t. As it turned out, Wicca wasn’t for me, as I’ve had this nagging belief that there’s no such thing as a deity since I was 5 years old, taking my first religion classes at school. I reached a point where I just admitted my Atheism, and I’ve been good since.


9. I was scouted by a modeling agent when I was 17, and I turned him down. He was legit, as I later found out, but I was heading off to college in two days, and I was embarrassed by the attention. Flattering, but I always thought I was a bit horsey in the face, and wondered at the time if he was either poor-sighted or prowling. Oh well.


10. There is something in me that finds overly popular trends repellent. I haven’t seen or read Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, and I avoided Brad Pitt, Coldplay, The Spice Girls, etc. I sometimes wonder if I would have been totally turned off by Beatlemania…that would have been a shame.


11. I can fit my whole fist in my mouth. It’s gross, I know.


12. Speaking of genetic oddities, my ring finger is very noticeably shorter than my index finger. The norm is for your ring finger is taller than the index finger, or they are roughly equal height. Oh the things you learn from Northern Studies classes taught by Phys Ed teachers!


13. I used to suffer from a massive inferiority complex. To those who knew me way back in the day, this isn’t new information (it was kinda obvious because of my attempts to over-compensate). It’s less evident now because I’ve grown into my own skin, my own experiences; I’ve stopped seeing myself as inferior, and started seeing myself as at least an equal


14. I have never suffered from eating disorders, contrary to early rumors. If you’ve ever seen pictures of my parents in their youth, you’d see that I come by my skinny frame honestly. And if you’ve seen pictures of my parents in their later years, you’d see the skinny ain’t gonna last! Bring on the jolly!


15. Well, it’s not much of a secret, but I am happy to proclaim it in writing for all to see: I don’t care about aging. I recently spotted the beginnings of baby crows feet around my eyes, and it’s all good…I’ve earned my age.


16. I believe that the quest for true perfection is harmful and potentially dangerous; if I celebrate perfection in any way, it is how perfectly imperfect something is because I place a higher value on uniqueness.


17. One of my favourite sandwiches is peanut butter and cheddar cheese. It grosses nearly everyone out, but who cares?! I think it’s so nummy.


18. My favourite muppets have always been Statler and Waldorf (the hecklers), Animal, and Rowlf the Dog. The hecklers have inspired and influenced me to become a quick wit, I admire the sheer hedonistic drive of Animal, and Rowlf is just plain cool.


19. I can play a part of one Mozart piece on the piano, which I learned by ear. Other than that, I’m instrumentally illiterate. I can sing, but again, I learn by ear, as I can’t comprehend sheet music.


20. One of the best experiences in my life is watching my cats sleep. Their vulnerability touches me, and they little whine they give when they are awakened is one of the most delightful sounds in the world.


21. I can’t eat cooked potatoes. The revolting, mushy, starchy consistency makes me lose my belly. The only potato products I can tolerate are chips, fries, and raw potatoes.


22. I don’t bruise easily, and despite being hit by vehicles, falling down stairs, getting into the odd fight/brawl, and too many sports injuries to count, I’ve only ever cracked my nose (not broken), and broken a toe. I might appear small and frail, but I’m apparently made of some pretty tough stuff.


23. I miss my Gramma everyday. She passed away in 2002, and not a day has passed without even the slightest ache for her.


24. I keep my birth date under wraps because I hate the disappointment of being forgotten. It’s not at the best time of year for people, so it’s just easier if I leave it alone. Eventually, I just got used to not having a big fuss.


25. I had a hell of a time thinking of 25 things to say; partly because I don’t really keep secrets about myself…chances are if you ask me point blank, I’ll answer point blank; and partly because I’m a super-opinionated person, and I have to self-edit or else risk pissing people off.