Last Friday, during all the dreadful events in Mumbai, I was woken up by my dad at 6:30 PST.
Eufemia: ....huh-low?
Papa: You see what's happen in da news?
Even though it's 6:30 a.m. and I'm barely aware that I'm a concious living thing, I know he's referring to the upsetting situation in Mumbai, and not the possible crisis in Canadian Parliament.
Papa: I say to myself thank God Eufemia no still there. They say this India's 9/11.
One guy said it. Quite the sound-bite. Then it becomes the headline, and now I've seen pictures of fellas with the giant numbers 26/11 written on the backs of their vests.
Eufemia: Papa, come on, I didn't even go to Mumbai.
Papa: Doesn't matter. India is India.
Can't argue with that logic.
Today, my dad calls at 7:30 a.m. and says "You see what's happen? What Governor General do? Because Stephen Harper go crying to her."
There are days when I love the guy so much it hurts.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
OMG, WTF, & Any Other Useless Short Forms
I really should try to write more, and I keep meaning to, but somehow I get caught in in my daily grind that involves work, avoiding more work (of a personal nature - not the paying kind, the writing, the projects on backburners, the LAUNDRY. Dear God, the laundry) But I just have to spell it out loud -
OH MY GOD!
Stephen Harper (or as my friend Cathy refers to him Mr. Crazydevileyes) - what are you saying? What kind of Bull is this? Referring to what's happening now in Parliament (which is all your fault, in case you were wondering) as "undemocratic"? Man, you are a piece of work. A disturbing, lying, arrogant, wanker-speaking piece, to be sure. And if that wasn't enough, you've delayed my "Harper Goes Down & I'm Happy Dance." (It looks a lot like Snoopy's Happy Dance)
How dare you call the process undemocratic? It's our Canadian process, even if it's unprecendented. And it kicked in to kick you in the nuts because you deserved it.
As my hero Bugs would say "Da noive of some peeple!"
OH MY GOD!
Stephen Harper (or as my friend Cathy refers to him Mr. Crazydevileyes) - what are you saying? What kind of Bull is this? Referring to what's happening now in Parliament (which is all your fault, in case you were wondering) as "undemocratic"? Man, you are a piece of work. A disturbing, lying, arrogant, wanker-speaking piece, to be sure. And if that wasn't enough, you've delayed my "Harper Goes Down & I'm Happy Dance." (It looks a lot like Snoopy's Happy Dance)
How dare you call the process undemocratic? It's our Canadian process, even if it's unprecendented. And it kicked in to kick you in the nuts because you deserved it.
As my hero Bugs would say "Da noive of some peeple!"
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Elections Day
The last several conversations I’ve had with my mom have been peaceful, calm and tranquil: we were both cracking jokes and talking about more than just the weather. This is so unusual for us. It’s eerie. I almost considered giving her my phone number, but then I thought about the times she was in psychosis and calling non-stop. Then again, maybe I won’t.
When I spoke to her this thanksgiving Sunday, she told me a guy called Patrick “Doyle” stepped out in front of her and shook her hand as she was heading up into Sunday Mass, and then another guy tried to shake her hand but she got scared and hurried into the church.
I said “Patrick who? Gosh Ma, I hope you didn’t shake a Conservative guy’s hand,” but she couldn’t tell. Then my mother says to me, in the same concerned voice she used when she beat the pants off me in a game of Monopoly 4 years ago “They’re all the same, and they try, but sometimes they have to clean up the mess the man before them make, and then they can’t change nothing for better because they too busy clean up the problems from before.”
All I could say was “Uhm….yeah.”
I’ve spent years thinking of my mother as shrewd but simple, not concerned with the bigger picture at all, a person who would have preferred to have stayed in the village, life in a new country, a big city was too overwhelming for her. Everything unfamiliar was intensely feared. So it took me by surprise to hear her commentary.
Sadly, I looked up the riding I grew up in and of course, stupid Patrick Whathisface is a Tory. Like they give a damn about people with mental illnesses, people like my mother. I wonder who the other guy was….and MAN do I ever wish I’d been there. Though I doubt I woulda said anything, let alone even smack his hand away, but I’d like to think I’d try….that I might say “Hey Pat, when will we get a National Mental Health program working? Shouldn’t we be ashamed of ourselves as a highly developed nation? I know I’m ashamed of your Party’s platforms, so don’t shake her hand. I’d rather you just spit in her face, and we-the-people kick you in the shins on Election day.”
Then, after I already made my prejudiced decision, I decided to look at Patrick’s website and it seems like the guy has done some good work, but then it is his PR page I’m reading. Doesn’t he know he works for the devil? The one that goes by the name of Stephen Harper?
Whenever my father used to say “better the devil you know than the devil you don’t” I’d think, can’t I see the new devil first and decide?
Because the devil we know will destroy us.
When I spoke to her this thanksgiving Sunday, she told me a guy called Patrick “Doyle” stepped out in front of her and shook her hand as she was heading up into Sunday Mass, and then another guy tried to shake her hand but she got scared and hurried into the church.
I said “Patrick who? Gosh Ma, I hope you didn’t shake a Conservative guy’s hand,” but she couldn’t tell. Then my mother says to me, in the same concerned voice she used when she beat the pants off me in a game of Monopoly 4 years ago “They’re all the same, and they try, but sometimes they have to clean up the mess the man before them make, and then they can’t change nothing for better because they too busy clean up the problems from before.”
All I could say was “Uhm….yeah.”
I’ve spent years thinking of my mother as shrewd but simple, not concerned with the bigger picture at all, a person who would have preferred to have stayed in the village, life in a new country, a big city was too overwhelming for her. Everything unfamiliar was intensely feared. So it took me by surprise to hear her commentary.
Sadly, I looked up the riding I grew up in and of course, stupid Patrick Whathisface is a Tory. Like they give a damn about people with mental illnesses, people like my mother. I wonder who the other guy was….and MAN do I ever wish I’d been there. Though I doubt I woulda said anything, let alone even smack his hand away, but I’d like to think I’d try….that I might say “Hey Pat, when will we get a National Mental Health program working? Shouldn’t we be ashamed of ourselves as a highly developed nation? I know I’m ashamed of your Party’s platforms, so don’t shake her hand. I’d rather you just spit in her face, and we-the-people kick you in the shins on Election day.”
Then, after I already made my prejudiced decision, I decided to look at Patrick’s website and it seems like the guy has done some good work, but then it is his PR page I’m reading. Doesn’t he know he works for the devil? The one that goes by the name of Stephen Harper?
Whenever my father used to say “better the devil you know than the devil you don’t” I’d think, can’t I see the new devil first and decide?
Because the devil we know will destroy us.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Some Half-Baked Alaskan
Forwarded by a friend, and just what I've been thinking about these days...
Eve Ensler, the American playwright, performer, feminist and activist best known for "The Vagina Monologues", wrote the following about Sarah Palin.
Drill, Drill, Drill.
I am having Sarah Palin nightmares. I dreamt last night that she was a member of a club where they rode snowmobiles and wore the claws of drowned and starved polar bears around their necks. I have a particular thing for Polar Bears. Maybe it's their snowy whiteness or their bigness or the fact that they live in the arctic or that I have never seen one in person or touched one. Maybe it is the fact that they live so comfortably on ice. Whatever it is, I need the polar bears.
I don't like raging at women. I am a Feminist and have spent my life trying to build community, help empower women and stop violence against them. It is hard to write about Sarah Palin. This is why the Sarah Palin choice was all the more insidious and cynical. The people who made this choice count on the goodness and solidarity of Feminists.
But everything Sarah Palin believes in and practices is antithetical to Feminism which for me is part of one story -- connected to saving the earth, ending racism, empowering women, giving young girls options, opening our minds, deepening tolerance, and ending violence and war.
I believe that the McCain/Palin ticket is one of the most dangerous choices of my lifetime, and should this country choose those candidates the fall-out may be so great, the destruction so vast in so many areas that America may never recover. But what is equally disturbing is the impact that duo would have on the rest of the world. Unfortunately, this is not a joke. In my lifetime I have seen the clownish, the inept, the bizarre be elected to the presidency with regularity.
Sarah Palin does not believe in evolution. I take this as a metaphor. In her world and the world of Fundamentalists nothing changes or gets better or evolves. She does not believe in global warming. The melting of the arctic, the storms that are destroying our cities, the pollution and rise of cancers, are all part of God's plan. She is fighting to take the polar bears off the endangered species list. The earth, in Palin's view, is here to be taken and plundered. The wolves and the bears are here to be shot and plundered. The oil is here to be taken and plundered. Iraq is here to be taken and plundered. As she said herself of the Iraqi war, "It was a task from God."
Sarah Palin does not believe in abortion. She does not believe women who are raped and incested and ripped open against their will should have a right to determine whether they have their rapist's baby or not.
She obviously does not believe in sex education or birth control. I imagine her daughter was practicing abstinence and we know how many babies that makes.
Sarah Palin does not much believe in thinking. From what I gather she has tried to ban books from the library, has a tendency to dispense with people who think independently. She cannot tolerate an environment of ambiguity and difference. This is a woman who could and might very well be the next president of the United States . She would govern one of the most diverse populations on the earth.
Sarah believes in guns. She has her own custom Austrian hunting rifle. She has been known to kill 40 caribou at a clip. She has shot hundreds of wolves from the air.
Sarah believes in God. That is of course her right, her private right. But when God and Guns come together in the public sector, when war is declared in God's name, when the rights of women are denied in his name, that is the end of separation of church and state and the undoing of everything America has ever tried to be.
I write to my sisters. I write because I believe we hold this election in our hands. This vote is a vote that will determine the future not just of the U.S. , but of the planet. It will determine whether we create policies to save the earth or make it forever uninhabitable for humans. It will determine whether we move towards dialogue and diplomacy in the world or whether we escalate violence through invasion, undermining and attack. It will determine whether we go for oil, strip mining, coal burning or invest our money in alternatives that will free us from dependency and destruction. It will determine if money gets spent on education and healthcare or whether we build more and more methods of killing. It will determine whether America is a free open tolerant society or a closed place of fear, fundamentalism and aggression.
If the Polar Bears don't move you to go and do everything in your power to get Obama elected then consider the chant that filled the hall after Palin spoke at the RNC, "Drill Drill Drill." I think of teeth when I think of drills. I think of rape. I think of destruction. I think of domination. I think of military exercises that force mindless repetition, emptying the brain of analysis, doubt, ambiguity or dissent. I think of pain.
Do we want a future of drilling? More holes in the ozone, in the floor of the sea, more holes in our thinking, in the trust between nations and peoples, more holes in the fabric of this precious thing we call life?
September 5, 2008
Eve Ensler, the American playwright, performer, feminist and activist best known for "The Vagina Monologues", wrote the following about Sarah Palin.
Drill, Drill, Drill.
I am having Sarah Palin nightmares. I dreamt last night that she was a member of a club where they rode snowmobiles and wore the claws of drowned and starved polar bears around their necks. I have a particular thing for Polar Bears. Maybe it's their snowy whiteness or their bigness or the fact that they live in the arctic or that I have never seen one in person or touched one. Maybe it is the fact that they live so comfortably on ice. Whatever it is, I need the polar bears.
I don't like raging at women. I am a Feminist and have spent my life trying to build community, help empower women and stop violence against them. It is hard to write about Sarah Palin. This is why the Sarah Palin choice was all the more insidious and cynical. The people who made this choice count on the goodness and solidarity of Feminists.
But everything Sarah Palin believes in and practices is antithetical to Feminism which for me is part of one story -- connected to saving the earth, ending racism, empowering women, giving young girls options, opening our minds, deepening tolerance, and ending violence and war.
I believe that the McCain/Palin ticket is one of the most dangerous choices of my lifetime, and should this country choose those candidates the fall-out may be so great, the destruction so vast in so many areas that America may never recover. But what is equally disturbing is the impact that duo would have on the rest of the world. Unfortunately, this is not a joke. In my lifetime I have seen the clownish, the inept, the bizarre be elected to the presidency with regularity.
Sarah Palin does not believe in evolution. I take this as a metaphor. In her world and the world of Fundamentalists nothing changes or gets better or evolves. She does not believe in global warming. The melting of the arctic, the storms that are destroying our cities, the pollution and rise of cancers, are all part of God's plan. She is fighting to take the polar bears off the endangered species list. The earth, in Palin's view, is here to be taken and plundered. The wolves and the bears are here to be shot and plundered. The oil is here to be taken and plundered. Iraq is here to be taken and plundered. As she said herself of the Iraqi war, "It was a task from God."
Sarah Palin does not believe in abortion. She does not believe women who are raped and incested and ripped open against their will should have a right to determine whether they have their rapist's baby or not.
She obviously does not believe in sex education or birth control. I imagine her daughter was practicing abstinence and we know how many babies that makes.
Sarah Palin does not much believe in thinking. From what I gather she has tried to ban books from the library, has a tendency to dispense with people who think independently. She cannot tolerate an environment of ambiguity and difference. This is a woman who could and might very well be the next president of the United States . She would govern one of the most diverse populations on the earth.
Sarah believes in guns. She has her own custom Austrian hunting rifle. She has been known to kill 40 caribou at a clip. She has shot hundreds of wolves from the air.
Sarah believes in God. That is of course her right, her private right. But when God and Guns come together in the public sector, when war is declared in God's name, when the rights of women are denied in his name, that is the end of separation of church and state and the undoing of everything America has ever tried to be.
I write to my sisters. I write because I believe we hold this election in our hands. This vote is a vote that will determine the future not just of the U.S. , but of the planet. It will determine whether we create policies to save the earth or make it forever uninhabitable for humans. It will determine whether we move towards dialogue and diplomacy in the world or whether we escalate violence through invasion, undermining and attack. It will determine whether we go for oil, strip mining, coal burning or invest our money in alternatives that will free us from dependency and destruction. It will determine if money gets spent on education and healthcare or whether we build more and more methods of killing. It will determine whether America is a free open tolerant society or a closed place of fear, fundamentalism and aggression.
If the Polar Bears don't move you to go and do everything in your power to get Obama elected then consider the chant that filled the hall after Palin spoke at the RNC, "Drill Drill Drill." I think of teeth when I think of drills. I think of rape. I think of destruction. I think of domination. I think of military exercises that force mindless repetition, emptying the brain of analysis, doubt, ambiguity or dissent. I think of pain.
Do we want a future of drilling? More holes in the ozone, in the floor of the sea, more holes in our thinking, in the trust between nations and peoples, more holes in the fabric of this precious thing we call life?
September 5, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Cruel and Unusual Punishment
It's day 5 with no coffee. NO COFFEE. I 've had forms of caffeine in various power bars, green teas, matcha tea, and even a green-kombucha tea combo. But I miss my coffee. I have to say, this was a new and unwelcome addiction entirely. Years of being offered espresso under conditions that can only be referred to as terrorist hospitality gave me a throat-jerk dislike for the bitter sharp taste of coffee. Add some hot milk and sugar and now you're talking... As one dearly beloved said, this is "desert in a mug" and I agree. Pure Liquid Gold, as the Spanish conquistadors said to the Mayans.
The Mayans predicted something big goes down, or the world would end, in 2012. I know, I'm mixing it up...but if coffee were to run out in 2012, I could totally see that day of destruction: So long Starbucks. I hardly knew ya.
For a very new habit, why am I so attached? It all started last year, hangin' out with those wild non-fiction writers in coffeeshops around town. Coffehouses. Coffeebars. First it was a cappuccino. Then a small latte. When I wanted to have an I.V. hook-up to double-shot Grande Latte, well it's GAME OVER.
So day cinq sans coffee. I'm building up to removing caffeine entirely. [COUNTDOWN: 2 weeks]Today was harder to take..it's overcast and I had a deaf man yelling at me through his Telus-relay operator. Truly an experience that would drive one to drink Draino, let alone strong, cheap coffee. I replied to all his frustrated and angry questions and waited during the time-delay for his reply and the relay operator raised her voice to repeat his typed out message to her, so I heard "I SAID I SPEAK TO SOMEONE RIGHT NOW..." then she lowered her voice and said in a conspiratorial whisper "It's not like this is your fault, he just isn't getting it..." I said "Thank you for saying so. Could you tell him I've now been on the phone with him for12 minutes , I've run out of options to reroute his call and I need to terminate the call. He can call back later."
I really, really, really wanted to yell back. I wanted to swear, actually, he'd been so rude for the duration of the call. Rude and a tad incomprehensible. I think there was an ESL problem, compounded with a touch of psychosis. So it couldn't have been fun for him, and I imagine he's under a tremendous amount of stress.
Still, it's really hard to hear a relay operator say "I SAID I SPEAK TO SOMEONE NOW...why you follow my kids and harrass family...I...call media in half an hour ...you don't get me ...phone.... my fax sent and last year WHY YOU STILL HARRASS ME AND MY KIDS?!" and not respond with
"What the FUCK are you saying?"
Sadly, my schedule this Fall doesn't allow time for a non-violent communications course, but I'm already looking into the Spring schedule. I wonder if I really need it, cause I didn't say it. I just wanted to. Big difference, right?
It's just, there's this part of me that wants to say to people, in the nicest, most non-violent way possible: Nothing gives you the right to be an asshole. Nothing.
Maybe he was giving up coffee too. Poor jerk.
The Mayans predicted something big goes down, or the world would end, in 2012. I know, I'm mixing it up...but if coffee were to run out in 2012, I could totally see that day of destruction: So long Starbucks. I hardly knew ya.
For a very new habit, why am I so attached? It all started last year, hangin' out with those wild non-fiction writers in coffeeshops around town. Coffehouses. Coffeebars. First it was a cappuccino. Then a small latte. When I wanted to have an I.V. hook-up to double-shot Grande Latte, well it's GAME OVER.
So day cinq sans coffee. I'm building up to removing caffeine entirely. [COUNTDOWN: 2 weeks]Today was harder to take..it's overcast and I had a deaf man yelling at me through his Telus-relay operator. Truly an experience that would drive one to drink Draino, let alone strong, cheap coffee. I replied to all his frustrated and angry questions and waited during the time-delay for his reply and the relay operator raised her voice to repeat his typed out message to her, so I heard "I SAID I SPEAK TO SOMEONE RIGHT NOW..." then she lowered her voice and said in a conspiratorial whisper "It's not like this is your fault, he just isn't getting it..." I said "Thank you for saying so. Could you tell him I've now been on the phone with him for12 minutes , I've run out of options to reroute his call and I need to terminate the call. He can call back later."
I really, really, really wanted to yell back. I wanted to swear, actually, he'd been so rude for the duration of the call. Rude and a tad incomprehensible. I think there was an ESL problem, compounded with a touch of psychosis. So it couldn't have been fun for him, and I imagine he's under a tremendous amount of stress.
Still, it's really hard to hear a relay operator say "I SAID I SPEAK TO SOMEONE NOW...why you follow my kids and harrass family...I...call media in half an hour ...you don't get me ...phone.... my fax sent and last year WHY YOU STILL HARRASS ME AND MY KIDS?!" and not respond with
"What the FUCK are you saying?"
Sadly, my schedule this Fall doesn't allow time for a non-violent communications course, but I'm already looking into the Spring schedule. I wonder if I really need it, cause I didn't say it. I just wanted to. Big difference, right?
It's just, there's this part of me that wants to say to people, in the nicest, most non-violent way possible: Nothing gives you the right to be an asshole. Nothing.
Maybe he was giving up coffee too. Poor jerk.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Caw-fee, Sugah, Foamed Milk & Other Reasons to Live
I went to a TCM place last week, that’s Traditional Chinese Medicine. Where, for a paltry sum, I got herbs that look AND taste like un-used cat-litter, and accupuncture. All to help with this little problem I have of feeling exhausted all the time. You say gluten, I say anaemia. Let’s call the whole-wheat thing off.
They measured my pulse, and described it as “slippery” and “witty”. I’m not making that up. I was reading it upside down though, so there is some margin for error and interpretation. As I lay there with needles poking into me from my forehead to the arch of my foot, I tried to think of what other word it could possible be. Watty? Wotty? Wetty?
No. Clearly, I have a brilliant pulse. Slippery when wet, and genius.
Sure.
My pulse could win the Throbbing Pulse of a Brainiac’s Wet T-shirt Competition. If such a thing existed.
I didn’t bother to ask if I should eliminate any items from my diet, I just sat there and listened to terms like “chi stagnation” and “tonify the liver”. I was told “there’s a lot of pain” and I said, “Well yes, I’m exercising a lot and feeling it too.”
[Blogger’s insert: bootcamp….some Brainiac that makes me…more like a glutton for punishment. Is there a Glutton for Punishment Wet Something Contest? Or does that just about cover all those disturbing reality shows I haven’t seen? Okay, I’ve seen some excerpts, but I had to turn away. Shield my eyes. Pray for the fate of humanity.]
The woman said “No, emotional pain. You hold it here and here.” She pointed to her lungs and her stomach. “This is the weakness you feel, the tired all the time.”
I didn’t say “Emotional pain? Well, I’m human.” I wanted to, but I didn't. I mean really, did everyone else get through puberty unscathed? Survive middle school without severe trauma?
Well bully for you.
You won’t need acupuncture.
I guess that makes you special.
Big deal.
As if I believe you.
As if.
They measured my pulse, and described it as “slippery” and “witty”. I’m not making that up. I was reading it upside down though, so there is some margin for error and interpretation. As I lay there with needles poking into me from my forehead to the arch of my foot, I tried to think of what other word it could possible be. Watty? Wotty? Wetty?
No. Clearly, I have a brilliant pulse. Slippery when wet, and genius.
Sure.
My pulse could win the Throbbing Pulse of a Brainiac’s Wet T-shirt Competition. If such a thing existed.
I didn’t bother to ask if I should eliminate any items from my diet, I just sat there and listened to terms like “chi stagnation” and “tonify the liver”. I was told “there’s a lot of pain” and I said, “Well yes, I’m exercising a lot and feeling it too.”
[Blogger’s insert: bootcamp….some Brainiac that makes me…more like a glutton for punishment. Is there a Glutton for Punishment Wet Something Contest? Or does that just about cover all those disturbing reality shows I haven’t seen? Okay, I’ve seen some excerpts, but I had to turn away. Shield my eyes. Pray for the fate of humanity.]
The woman said “No, emotional pain. You hold it here and here.” She pointed to her lungs and her stomach. “This is the weakness you feel, the tired all the time.”
I didn’t say “Emotional pain? Well, I’m human.” I wanted to, but I didn't. I mean really, did everyone else get through puberty unscathed? Survive middle school without severe trauma?
Well bully for you.
You won’t need acupuncture.
I guess that makes you special.
Big deal.
As if I believe you.
As if.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Youtube? Metube too!
I posted on youtube! This is quite the feat for a luddite such as myself:
http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=eufemia+stand+up&search_type=&aq=f
Now I'm a recipient of the Time Person of the Year Award 2006, right? Like I can add that to my resume? No, seriously, tell me....'cause I'm calling my dad and telling him. Okay, it's no Nobel Prize for Peace, but then again, I'm no Kissinger.
http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=eufemia+stand+up&search_type=&aq=f
Now I'm a recipient of the Time Person of the Year Award 2006, right? Like I can add that to my resume? No, seriously, tell me....'cause I'm calling my dad and telling him. Okay, it's no Nobel Prize for Peace, but then again, I'm no Kissinger.
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