Dream Diary?

I always dreamt that I would keep a dream diary. I know I dream, and I often I don't remember the dream unless I consciously fight for it...or the other alternative is my dream comes true and I realize in the moment that I dreamt what is actually happening before me (whole other story).

Anyways, last night I had a dream and I remember waking up at 3:01am and promptly deciding I needed to remember this dream. I am going to use names without reference to who they are...if you are in my life you may know, and if you aren't well just enjoy a snippet of a story ...or not.

Initially it began with Meghan hanging out with me. I knew she had decided to let her other committments go so she could hang out with me. I also could feel a sense of her father, and that he would be disproving (in real life he wouldn't and she wouldn't). Anyways, she repeats the behaviour of hanging out with me and cutting class, of which I question her, but let it drop because I enjoy her company. Finally her father calls me and yells and yells at me, that I am a bad influence, that Meghan shouldn't be missing classes and that he never wants her to hang out with me again. Of course I am distraught, but it is time for the dream to progress...the scene shifts where I end up in a hall, perhaps attached to rec centre or events place. It is dinner, buffet style? perhaps, in any event lots of tables, long, covered with white linen and people eating dinner...I know my table is long, maybe 20-30 people at it...near where I sit, is Sylvie, Cam, and Meghan, also my mother and someone else is there, which I know is important but slips me at the moment, someone affiliated with my mother. The dinner is tense because Cam is still angry that Meghan is spending time with me, and now he has to sit at the same table as me. Sylvie is trying to placate and assure everyone that this is nothing to get worked up about. Somewhere in the midst of all the tension on one side of me, the whole dining area breaks out into prayer...I hear a voice on the PA system ask everyone to open their bibles to a particular psalm and begin the hymms. Immediately I know I am not having any part of this and I can't believe people have brought me to a dinner that is actually a mass prayer God worship situation. I had the sense that everyone is trying to convert me, and that they refuse to accept that I can't be converted. So I immediately excuse myself from the table, which turns out is a huge NO NO...people do not get up...almost like sacrilege. My act of getting up from the table, my act of moving during prayer indicates that I am not in line with God (interesting how that worked in a dream). My mother immediately begins wailing "no sheila, come back, please, please pray" and she is wailing and screaming, but my only instinct and desire is to flee the room. Which I do successfully, but I am still filled with anxiety that she will try and come and find me once the prayer session is over, so instead of heading to the lobby, I duck into another room in the events place. I like this place. It is filled with a variety of clothing and cloths and innovative creations that are wearable and full of BRIGHT colours and flowers and leathers, almost hippy-esque. I touch the cloths and wonder how I can get them for myself even though I have no money. Other people are in there admiring the racks upon racks of clothing...and the clothing is hanging from the cieling, so you are immersed fully, and can't see the other aisles, it is just you and the bright colours and fabrics. I love it and feel safe and the thought that I will be found is almost gone...

Then I wake up.

A slow day in the posting world

I guess I should count myself lucky I don't have a readership, otherwise I would get complaints about why I am not posting as frequently as I once did.
Do you ever get the feeling like you are saying the same thing over and over again? I do. And really how much can one take of the same song? Scratch that...I know of songs I can listen to over and over again...and no I am not talking about Crimson and Clover!!!
Lately, the road of life and academia has felt utterly hectic and overwhelming! So as indicated I am in the last semester of course work, which is liberating and confining all at once!
I have a research proposal and an ethics proposal I want to work on and complete. I also have a housing course with the most task driven professor I have ever met in my life and by the end of his course I will have written a sum total of 65 pages...and that's just what is asked from the syllabus, who knows what else he will ask for!!! So I am expecting for this semester to write close to if not above a 100 pages grand total....that addition makes me want to nap. And then there is my other problem, I see the mountain of work I have to do, and suddenly a nap seems like a great idea and there I am napping!! I think I am one of the most well rested graduate students ever to exist!!! I can't stop sleeping!!! And I am not joking, I am addicted to sleep...I sleep whenever I can for as long as I can!! At some point a person can't be tired, but somehow I manage it...miraculous...no.
Although, my research question has drummed itself out, my research methodology has drummed itself out...and everything is progressing along in a very timely fashion.
But then I watch CHBC news...with a small amount of glee to see Sean Harvey get jailed and wish that we could jail Prez Bush and few other politicians, but okay Sean can be my frustration goat! Weirdly, murders and round-abouts are the run of the mill in local news....the top end of the news is completely benign and filled with stories about construction and roads and then voila we move onto Rhonda Black and another fellow murderer whose name escapes me right now...and I begin to wonder when Court TV will begin to feature the Okanagan the crime hotspot with lots of roundabouts??!!!???
And this is what you are left with a pile of nothing. Absolutely no entertainment that I can provide you...and just the satisfaction that a year from now I will look back over this post and realize how simpy and wimpy my life is as a researcher!

Return of the Semester

Well, it is time for yet another semester to begin. January 8th and the following week will result in the usual line-ups and mixed feelings about tuition, bus passes, text purchases and syllabi's. I went into the bookstore today to purchase the one and only text I will need "Readme First". It was a very reluctant purchase as my funds were lacking and I was just as content to photocopy, unfortunately the text has a CD-ROM which turns out to be integral to the course and my ability to do research. I stood before the books and gazed at some of the courses and their required readings...I had mixed feelings because there was plenty of material that looked VERY interesting to me and yet I was glad that I am no longer an undergraduate who has to slog through 8 to 12 books in a semester. Don't get me wrong the Master's program is not a reading dream come true, in fact there might be more reading, but one doesn't notice so much because a large portion of the reading centres on personal interests. I made the right decision. So, hopefully funds will get easier and I can make the return to the bookstore and buy the books students didn't for my own personal enjoyment...I am that much of a dork.

On that note, I also came to the campus early...January 2nd early. Granted my work requires me to show up a little earlier, but the other reason is that I enjoy the quiet campus. Just me and the staff. No noisy students cluttering and littering hallways, no cramped busses, no messy bathrooms, and unfettered librarians...truly a beautiful thing. My goal this summer is to bring my rollerblades and skate the hallways...that is how empty the campus is!!

This is the semester where my research question is expected to cement itself, where my methodology and method will be clarified and I will write for the ethics board...this seems all so sureal and yet I know this means I am that much closer to being done my Masters!! Gosh!

Hooray for 2007! Welcome back everyone!

Lazy holidays in the hills

So I am housesitting in Oyama, which would be fine but D isn't with me, therefore I am not putting my full heart into this. The view is exquisite, overlooking two looks and a vineyard in the middle of winter...I feel like I am in one of Bob's paintings, with happy little trees and swishing lakes, etc...

I brought work with me, thinking I would do some of it, since I am essentially stuck here, no car and no way of driving said car. In addition, it snowed heavily the last two days, and even four wheel drives are having issues getting out here, I am truly stuck!! So, one would think I would have time to give to work...ha! I think I developed a serious aversion to it, I am hedging I won't do any of it, because really I have been a good dutiful student and assistant up to this point and I need a break...there I said it. I am taking a break.

The holidays were nice and warm. I got a HUGE crockpot...which I wanted. I really wanted a crockpot so bad for years and years and I finally have one..I really hope it doesn't sit on my counter dormant..it is kinda big and since I only cook for two people I am not sure what will happen. I know I don't have to fill the thing up, but I do...I am sure I must have some ethnic background in me that believes in large amounts of food must be cooked or the world will cease to exist as we know it!! Too bad my freezer wasn't bigger, because I would be down with making a few different things, packaging it up and freezing it for school or work...would make my life that much easier.

I also got the most exquisite one-on-one time with D. He really puts alone time onto another level where we get to be silent, giggly, chatty and happy all at once...I wonder if he knows that I like listening to his voice through his chest.

Okay, now that I have shared, and it was all boring except to me...of I go to do more of NOTHING...ah so NICE!!!

Love you all!

My part

Okay, so Christmas is definitely barrelling down on most of the world's population. The presence of it can be certainly felt here in the Okanagan. Although, I wouldn't call the presence a pleasant one. All I see right now is A LOT of purchasing, scrambling for the right gift, everyone trying to one up the other person. Don't get me wrong, I love gifts, it is so fun to open up a gift and see what the person who gave it to you, thinks of you. Of course I am into the psychology of it all.

This year is also a little more different me. For a long time now, I have been wanting to volunteer, especially with soup kitchens or charity kitchens, I finally got my opportunity and with an organization that I can feel good about helping with. The Ki-Low-Na Friendship Society is an extremely busy place. The programs that run out this place, that assist people in the community with needs, is plentiful. In fact they are so busy that it is often difficult to actually meet with anyone. One has to be prepared to head down there and say "I can help".

I just finished with the Childrens Christmas, which was not much of an eye-opener, although it did clarify some really huge stereotypes I am often confronted with. The aboriginal children were beautiful, hair combed, dresses and pants ironed and clean, always ready with a please and thankyou and stayed close to their parents. The white children didn't fair so well...there was one young boy where my heart went out to him, but I also got a glimpse of a future serial killer...the child scared me and his parents weren't even with him, instead two very disinterested young women accompanied him.

I got to help with making paper bag riendeers...turned out to be not the best idea because there was ALOT of intricate cutting that needed to be done and the kids only had 25mins at each craft table...some tears, some frustration, some complaints and two very frazzled volunteers who could only do what they could do after six hours and over a 150 children. It was great though, for the most part the children were happy to be creative and see Santa, and the parents did their best to help and join in the experience.

This coming weekend I get to be part of "Feed the People". Basically tables are set up and people can come off of the street between 10-3 and get a plate of food. The fare will be traditional christmas trimmings and turkey and potatoes and the whole lot. I think this one will break my heart and give me hope at the same time. The volunteers and the staff are 100% committed to helping in any way they can and my last couple of ventures out volunteering with them has really given me warmth and happiness...also it has saddened me as I hear about the numbers of donations going down, but the number of people in need going up. The people at Ki-Low-Na Friendship Society take in and help whomever they can, with whatever they have and I wonder if more can't be done. Kelowna is a HUGE community with a lot of people who have money, resources and time...but only a fraction of them are seen on Leon...a small fraction.

And again I go back to my research, the need for my kind of research, and hopefully what I am doing will produce something that can be forward looking...and if not, I will be produced and I will continue and maybe with my infectious personality I can start swaying the tide!

Dream big my friends, DREAM BIG!

Right to Adequate Houses

http://www.chbc.com/index.php?name=News&file=article&sid=13538 This link is very important. Especially to me, because it speaks to why my interests and research is so very important. The Okanagan is a lovely place, it is picturesque and mildly seasonal. However, like most communities across the country and around the world the Okanagan has its fair share of social 'problems'.
I remember reading recently that the government felt that poverty was way to expensive to fix. I wouldn't argue with that if I was approaching poverty the same way the government does. Certainly, it is expensive, and so were the ways that most of our people became homeless..."just a paycheque away".
Bruce Porter has written an article in 2004, where he makes a really good argument for the ammendment to the Charter, where housing would be included. This is an idea I support 100%, if not more. I mentioned this idea to a colleague and he responded with, "what do you do if they wreck their home?". I blinked at him and thought about the other freedoms we have under the Charter...speech...religion....and we abuse those and somehow the public finds ways to put people in thier place for that abuse. But what struck me even harder is how willing people are ready to jump to an excuse or reason why the solution to the 'problem' is problematic. Which, when I think on ALL the literature I have read, is why we may have such an exacerbated 'problem' now. Along the line, our country has had a large amount of people who are community minded come up with incredibly viable solutions that will, not only help those who are need, but create a stronger sense of community. Yet, these people have been quashed by excuses and reasons.
I recognize the resistance comes from a history where our country has been moving into the idea "every person for himself", the woman somehow is implied in there. I would argue the individual idea went REALLY wrong. All these countries wanting Independence, and from that hard desire to be an independent nation, inspired an even harder desire to be independent as people. FLAWED.
So, I am in a class with a woman from Ghanna. She is flabbergasted that there is a need for my kind of research. In her country, homelessness doesn't manifest in the same way as it does here, why? Because of aunts, uncles, moms, dads, close friends, bosses....the way she talks about her country is that there is a strong support network within the communities and if the families have to relocate (which says is rare) then the place they are going to usually has a connection for them so that they aren't on the street.
I know have a couple of friends who have first hand experienced the wealth of community. I have even tasted that sweet nectar myself. So I know that when they read this, they will understand what I am talking about. But what about the 30 million people who make up Canada? Do they know what they are missing? And if they did would they be willing to work toward creating a community in their communities??
Here is where the idea of community becomes incredibly fantastic...if we built a community that actually lived by the mandate of what community means, it means there would be no more soup kitchens, no more homeless shelters, no more overcrowded jails, LESSENED crime, lessened occurances of drug addictions, depreciated amounts of poverty and the list goes on...
I am optimistic...maybe not in my life time, but I know it can happen.
And here is the kicker, it would cost the government less money to facilitate a community, to create housing as a right, than it would to solve poverty on the whole...and then maybe shelters wouldn't have to turn away over a hundred women and children during the winter, and maybe men's shelters wouldn't have to create safe places for women to sleep...and just maybe we could put more attention into an issue that we couldn't see because we were being too busy being independent.

Identity, Membership and Affordable housing

Well, I just finished 18 pages of typing about discourse in policy research discussions around affordable housing. And I can safely say I am pissed off...not about the amount of pages I had to write (although that could be the fuel), but about how policy makers make really grand assumptions and EVEN WORSE how that is played out in the local environment.
I actually read a paper that said homeownership produced better and more stable citizens!!! The author of the painfull piece of marginalizing crap actually generated numbers (which he kept saying he didn't have actual stats and still managed to come up with numbers) on how children from rental situations are more likely to be criminal offenders!!
And while this paper was the most blatant piece of writing I had ever seen, the other policy discussions weren't that far behind in their marginalizing discussions about affordable rental housing.
While reading the papers I thought of my own situation. I have never been a homeowner, I have never lived in a home that was owned by my family. I have, all my life, been part of the low-income rental scene. I began to reflect on the ways people talk to me when the find out I am a renter. Always, the discussion comes up about ownership, investment, long term....I generally sit and listen and take it in...but now, after reading a plethora of identity papers around housing and how people in poverty situations become marginalized by notions about home and housing...well now my ears are sensitive. Yes, I am a renter. As a renter, I still pay taxes, I still have to work long hours, I do not wreck property that isn't mine and if I do, I offer to fix it, I have never been charged or sent to jail, while I have dabbled in drug abuse it has never been anything but recreational, and while I may move from place to place, I am a stable person. Yes, I am paying someone else's mortgage, but why should I be persecuted and judged for helping someone else out? (okay I know that is flawed, but work with me)...I am not saying homeowndership is a bad thing (it is freaking expensive and means ALOT of responsibility, which I think I have enough of right now), but neither is being a renter.
So, I follow Bruce Porter, a fellow who adamantly asserts that the Charter needs to be ammended to include housing as a right!! Just like freedom of speech or freedom of religion, everyone in Canada should have the right to a home that is safe, warm and adequate to their needs. Then everyone can back off about why I don't own a home, and my identity can be less about being a renter and more about being ME!!

Poor Vancouver, and coast

I guess November was unwilling to go unnoticed, so right at the end of the month British Columbia became the target for memory of the month. Especially Vancouver. Vancouver was pummeled just over a week ago with rain storms which effectively wreacked havoc on the water systems and also added the pain of power outages and wrecked property. So, for a week the soggy, drenched Vancouver and coast was placed in a boil water advisory and the shelves where bottled water once sat now lay bare. However, November wasn't happy with this...nope, the punch needed to be harder, so lets drop the temperature and slap some snow down on the poor coast.
Now I have heard a lot of people say that people in Vancouver don't know how to cope with the snow, they become idiots and drive like grannies...I think this is being fairly harsh on a population that rarely has to experience freezing temperatures and frequent snow falls. The city doesn't budget for snow clearance, the drivers aren't thinking winter tires or safety measures that we in the north take for granted. Add on to the fact that the coast has already had a miserable week of water issues, now it's cold, no power, no safe water and compounded by a homeless population that has no resource.
So 90, 0000 people with no power beginning Monday, and now 14, 000 in Victoria and no power and another storm coming.
I don't have much of a point other than let's go easy on Vancouver and the coast, they are getting their teeth kicked in right now.

Month of Jaidan

I continually have new places that I find in my grief. Overall, I think I am fairly quiet about my grieving and how extensive my pain and sense of loss is. I remember when someone at one of my old jobs lost his grandmother. For several months afterwards he was very vocal about his pain, and the staff increasingly became unsympathetic towards him and began suggesting that his grieving time should end. I remember that reaction and often find myself censuring myself when in public, or ever personal situations. I don't want people to groan inwardly when I mention the pain of losing my brother and that even two years later I find I am profoundly affected and disabled by my grief.
What is worse is that it is November, and Jaidan passed away in November...my body remembers the smells, sights, the feeling of the cold, everything that embodies November feels as though it is now part of my DNA...I can't go anywhere without feeling the heaviness of this month.
I would hope as the years pass perhaps this too shall pass, however, if it doesn't I don't think I should feel bad about it. Jaidan is my brother, he is a foundation in which part of who I am rests firmly with. His death had many repercussions on my present situation, as well as, past and future.
So this is the Month of Jaidan...perhaps even the season as I can't even imagine another Christmas without him and yet I have to. I don't think that I will be increasing my vocalization about my grief, but I will work on not feeling shame for for feeling sad. I also hope that I will be a source of solace for those who lost someone dear and near and feel isolated by those who don't know or don't understand what that means and how long that kind of pain lasts and manifests.

Here is to one day waking up!

Congratulations America!

Democrats got to have a comeback in the States. Can I say that Bush did it to himself? Err, ya, big ol' presidentio Bush basically opened the door for the Democrats to come in and muddy the waters.
I have doubts about how much this new event will change the situation in the Middle East...the damage is more than definitely done. I know, if the tables were reversed and it was Canada that has been consistently bombed and occupied, well, my memory is long and my willingness to not forget and to move to action is very close to me. So, even if the midterm elections is a glimmer of hope that the Republican regime is on the way out...the damage is done...
Okay, and moving on. So, Saddam Hussien is sentenced to death by hanging. Automatically, his case goes to appeals court...if the verdict is upheld, they have thirty days in which to hang the fellow. I have had my ear glued to the news, especially the responses in the Arab world. I can't argue with either side, the Suni's or the Shiite's...both have very valid reasons as to why or why not Saddam should be hung/hanged (bad grammar, sorry).

I have to say I am happy to hear that the
Here is my thing...and I know the reality but a girl can dream right? Will Bush ever go on trial for his crimes?? Okay, reality says that unless he sticks a cigar up an interns rear, he will never have to go before a judge ...yes I am being glib, but that seems to be pretty much the truth of it. Sure, Viatnamese President gets world condemnation and sanctions for testing a nuclear bomb and Prez Bush gets the democrats. I know I see the uneveness of this...
For those three or four people who may or may not read my rambles...got anything you want to add? Got milk?
Oh, uhm, speaking of advertising, the United Church got a ten million dollar boost to start up a provocative advertising campaign. The reason this "provocative" campaign has started is because the Church noticed that the 30-45 age group was missing from the Church scene. They feel that this age group isn't looking to the Church for spirituality because they don't know the Church can offer that...thus the campaign. One ad, shows a picture of Jesus in the mall during Christmas, instead of Santa and the caption asks would you still take your children?...anyways, I wanted to find a picture sadly I cant'. BOO hiss me...go ahead comment away!!

Oops did I scare you?

Well, tomorrow evening is Hallowe'en, and I will be in my joyous creative workshop!! Sadly, yet another year where I will forgo my Hallowe'en joys. Every year I would dress up, somehow I would put something together from my wardrobe and then I would plaster my face with gobs of make-up and then spend the day wandering around with an itchy face and unable to scratch it because it would ruin my make-up. Truly sounds annoying but I had fun with it. I also love seeing what other people come up with. While I do enjoy that I have a great imagination other people are fare more inventive than I am, and that is FANTASTIC.
So, last year I gave up on the idea of a party or the bar because well it was Monday and I am a stickler for making sure that I get a good nights sleep for classes. This year, it is a Tuesday and I am seriously lacking funds...no costume, no party...BOOO...But that is okay, because the spirit is still alive in me. And well Dylan brought home a pumpkin for us to carve...I do love that man and the way he indulges my creative lusts.
But as I sit her typing this blog I am caught by the news report on CBC which just makes my heart sink. HALLOWE'EN is BAD! Well okay they didn't say that on CBC, but they may as well have! Crime is on the rise, obesity is on the rise, violence against children is on the rise...blah blah blah. Suck the fun out of a very communal activity.
Think about it...when do we get to go door to door and knock on people's doors and have them open the door with a smile and give us something?? Seriously, the stores stock up with candy and we buy it...and then give it away. My sense it is the last community building activity thing that we do in our culture. Not even on Christmas do total strangers get this close to giving and opening up their doors. True, some may argue yes we do on Christmas...but I think Hallowe'en could give Christmas a run for it's money.
But, the news in it's ever present ability to instill fear in our hearts that the world is coming to an end is also slowly chipping away at the joy of Hallowe'en.
I will now and forever and have, stand by the fact that the news is the demise of the world. Ever since we went global with media, humans the world over have become fearful creatures....really though, in North America especially, the amount of violence that is reported compared to amount of kind acts that go unnoticed, is way out of proportion but we only hear about the bad.
I remember reading that we live in the most peaceful time ever in history....although I sense there are people who would read this and immediately knee jerk into a desire to refute that assertion. Why? Why is it so hard to believe that we are safer than we ever have been?
And while we live in fear that the world is getting worse and that we have no desire to bring more children into a world that is going to hell in a handbasket, we forget we live in a community and that we are capable of being active in that community...the community that exists beyond our mom, dad, sister and partner...the world is going to hell in a handbasket. Not because violence is increasing, but because fear of our next door neighbour is at an all time high!! We care more about ourselves than we do about anyone else...
DAMMIT, fight the fear and celebrate HALLOWE'EN!!! and if your kid is FAT, make him/her jog to each door and ration out the candy...DO NOT BLAME OBESITY ON HALLOWE'EN...

OMG where did she go?

Hello my devoted fan base...all three of you...sometimes four! Okay, so I disappeared off the blogspot for some time and I am sorry for that. I know my information and discussion is very exciting.
So what happened to me anyways? Well...expectations happened to me. The expectation that I am expected to be a social being, an academic being, a renter, and an employee...all of my hats collided and squished me the last couple of weeks. I have picked up a new job, and it was created by a necessity for someone else to get their work done. Of course my work is great and does have some abstract relation to my studies...however, because of someone else's deadline, I had to run quickly and learn FAST! Add that to my reading for my complex mind numbing courses...and the continual fret that I will never get to my assignments...and well the lack of public transit that functions and administration that is more bent on being an obstacle than a facilitator (WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY GETTING PAID? more than me FUCKERS) ... uhm, ya that is my feeling on the current administration!

So, something I noticed and desired to get back to was excercising. I don't bike anymore because my day requires me to smell nice and carry certain items that don't travel well by bike. I have lamented the loss of biking and told myself I would get a gym pass...soon...well, the reality of making it to the gym in terms of all my other commitments really didn't make itself a goal that is attainable...well it is but at the expense of my mental well being...and I am stressed enough. So here is the new thing...getting up in the morning and keeping myself attached to my exercise ball for an hour...or running on the spot. Hopefully that will produce results that will provide the universe with a more balanced me.
I am frazzled. Razzled, and not at all dazzled.
But on the positive note I am trying to enter a piece of fiction into the CBC literary awards...I don't expect to win, what I do expect is that by entering I will legitimate in my own mind that I am a writer. Finally I am a writer!

More on Housing...

So, for the last couple of days, World Report on CBC has been feeding fuel to my fire about housing in Canada. Currently, the government is about to release a new social housing initiative. I am still waiting for the release at the moment. But so far the gist of what I understand is that the government plans on subsidizing rent for low income people...15thousand people is the number I heard.

While I feel it is great that the help is coming I also feel it is misplaced and once again another demonstration of an ineffective government. The problem, the much larger problem, is the lack of available affordable housing. Currently, housing starts for rental units are declining, especially in BC becuase it is a sales market right now and developers can make quick money at making houses than at rental units. Rental units have never been a money maker and usually the government has to subsidize developers to even get rental units made, started, whatever you want to call it.

So, here the government has graciously decided that they will help people who are spending large amounts of their income on housing. Great, but what about those who have no housing...perhaps, which is true in a lot of cases they have paying jobs, but no housing.

Yesterday and housing advocate and centre coordinater for a homeless shelter in Calgary sent out 500 emails to other housing shelters, stating that people who want to come to Calgary in search of work should be discouraged because there is no housing. None. There are people who are working but are living in cars, tents, or in shelters with no near solution of housing. Winter is coming...I bet you the death toll will rise.

I find it funny that citizens are doing what the government is steering them do, support themselves...and yet the government is also making it impossible for the citizens to be successful. Okay, piles of work, but no homes...we don't need a crystal ball to forsee this outcome.

I certainly do not advocate this neo-liberalist point of view, every person for themselves. I do not enjoy that I am part of a capitalistic system that has no care for a sense of community. Currently the way the income assistance and employment programs are set up by the government operate is to facilitate those who already have the means. So, tell me how far you can go on 575/mos. 325 is meant for rent? Workers are now only reachable by phone, and you aren't assigned a worker, so you will always have a different one and have to establish a new relationship. You have to have an address for at least three months to recieve any assistance. So if you are homeless and decide this is crap but you need a place to start...well, you don't have an address, so no help for you. Same goes for people who want off assistance but can't find fulltime work or still need subsidizing. The government has removed the ability to make anything over 200 dollars...if you have external income of over 200 dollars you don't get assistance!

Part of me believes of pull yourself up by the bootstraps...however, the culture does not generate a healthy atmosphere for a large number of people to do so.

And the sense that middle class people can turn their eyes from what is happening and focus on what fabric they will get to cover their couch, appalls me. 38% of people who were homeless in Kelowna in 2005 reported that they lost their homes while employed!! Simply being hard working and motivated does not automatically mean one is removed from ever ending up on the street, especially in the current political capitalistic neo liberalist atmosphere!!

I could go on about those who are on the street now, and mental illness and drug abuse...but I will sum it up as a product of this massive emphasis on the individual instead of the community.

Right now, housing needs to be generated...we have to start somewhere. Housing is a right, should be right, I hope someday will be a right. It definitely won't solve all the problems, but I feel it would be a step in the right direction.

Oh find me a home...

THOMAS ROSE: ANALYSIS
Should having a home be a human right?
September 22, 2006
Let's face it. The homeless are not an attractive people. It is hard to be around them. They can look frightening, they can smell bad, and they most often want something from you. They make us uncomfortable, fearful and, yes, guilty.

Why don't they just all go away? But where?

In the past, some cities have tried to encourage the homeless to move on, even offering to pay their transportation and put a few dollars in their pockets. But that doesn't solve the problem, it only shuffles it about. And with signs suggesting the number of homeless will grow, cities everywhere are grappling with what to do with them.

Montreal recently banned overnight stays in public squares. Penalties include hefty fines and even jail.

Victoria has a similar bylaw, prohibiting the erection of any shelter in a public place as well as sleeping overnight in downtown parks.

Housing advocates say criminalizing the homeless this way is a disturbing and perhaps immoral trend. Rather than penalizing the homeless, they argue, homelessness itself should be declared illegal, and having shelter should be elevated to a basic human right, alongside freedom of religion and the right to vote.

The notion that having a home is a right is gaining some currency around the globe, not to mention in the corners of some of the most frigid cities in Canada. The right to housing is already included in several legally binding international documents.

The Vancouver Declaration on Human Settlements, for example, sets out the obligations of governments to provide adequate housing for all. The UN's Habitat Agenda and Plan of Action created a global action plan that confirmed the legal status of the human right to adequate housing. And the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, a treaty which Canada has ratified, obliges all states to "recognize the right of everyone to an adequate standard of living, including adequate food, clothing and housing."

Many of these agreements are designed to deal largely with Third World problems that, according to the UN, have left upwards of 100 million people without adequate shelter. But in the context of a developed country such as Canada, the question has to be asked: How far do these rights go?


A new footing

One clue might be found in a ruling last spring by the U.S. 9th Circuit Court of Appeals in Los Angeles. The court ruled 2-1 that L.A. cannot arrest people for sleeping or even sitting on public sidewalks at certain times of the day because that would be tantamount to "cruel and unusual punishment," which is banned by the U.S. Constitution.

That ruling would appear to put the legal status of basic shelter on an entirely new footing — from the lofty rhetoric of international agreements to the determined reality of constitutional law.

For L.A., and presumably other American cities, it also meant the courts were telling city officials that if they wanted to remove the indigent from the streets then they had to provide the means to accommodate them.

Homeless advocates in B.C. are now before the courts there making a similar argument and are hoping for a similar ruling. Seeking to turn the tables on those who would ban the homeless from sleeping in public places, these advocates argue that the bylaws enacted by the City of Victoria violate the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

So long as there is a greater number of homeless than the number of beds available in shelters, the reasoning goes, sleeping restrictions in public places should not be placed on the homeless.

This is a familiar argument to the people of Scotland. After a flurry of similar court challenges throughout the 1980s, during a recession and period of record homelessness, the Scottish Parliament passed legislation declaring all levels of government were obliged to provide housing to all citizens.

Recent amendments have upgraded that legislation so that city councils are now obliged to provide permanent accommodation to anyone officially assessed as homeless. As a result, tens of thousands have been given shelter, tens of thousands more are on waiting lists and yet as recently as this spring, homeless advocates in Scotland declared it isn't enough.

In the end, perhaps, the fact of shelter as a human need may not mean that governments must provide each one of their citizens with land, four walls and a roof. But recent developments suggest that the status quo is no longer enough.

Throwing stones

Broken Glass

Once upon a time, that’s the way I remember him.

Once upon a time, he and I lived in a glass shoe. And this glass shoe was neatly placed in the centre of a green field in the centre of a small village in the centre of a vast forest. And we were the centres of each other’s world. He played with transformers and I played with hot wheels. We spoke in small sentences, such as “I like this” or “lets play in the heel.”

Once upon a time, he was a boy and I was a girl, that’s the way we remember ourselves.

Once upon a time his hair was red and ine was blond. Everyone in the small village in the vast forest had black hair. They played with paper, tools and building blocks. They spoke in long sentences with large words. Such as “After long consideration and an introspective look we are content to obviate from the cultural inconsistencies.”


Once upon a time, we were young and our memory was here and now.

Once upon a time, he and I could no longer find joy in our transformers and hot wheels. We wanted our red and blond hair to darken and deepen. We found our short sentences lacking, all because there was a crack in our shoe and the long dark sentences had seeped through disturbing our sleep. Their words from the small village burnt our grassy field and soot covered our glass shoe.

Once upon a time, he and I were friends. We saw our similarities not our differences.

Once upon time, we left our glass shoe. We sought new shelter within the small village in the vast forest. In our short sentences we asked, “Please, share with us.” They pulled at our hair, examined our toys, and took pictures of us, standing next to the heel of our glass shoe now covered in soot in the centre of the burnt grass field.

Once upon a time, he and I thought we were okay. We fit with each other.

Once upon a time, they changed our clothing, took away our toys, cut our hair and extended our sentences. They wanted us to use their paper and tools and building blocks. They wanted us to walk in straight lines, and live in row houses made from wood and plastic. They gave us names, Fred and Mary. They gave us birth dates, watches, calendars and schedules. They laughed at our offerings of shells and grass.

Once upon a time, he found joy in our toys, in our appearance, in our language, in our similarities. That’s the way I remember him.

Traces...

Our routine has become so normal. Five in the morning, hit snooze button, eight minutes extra of sleep until I roll over and say, “time to wake up”. I never thought I could get used to making coffee before daylight, but I have. It’s our routine that we share and repeat five days a week, like directions on a shampoo bottle.
He leaves early on these mornings, six o’clock, for work. That is when the suite becomes mine. After he leaves, is when the life begins in the house, long after the coffee is brewed and the lunches are packed. He never sees what I see; centipedes crawling out onto the carpet. I tell him about them, he figures they are fictions. Again, this morning the centipedes emerge after he leaves. Shiny hard brown bodies, soft legs, the same soft legs moving like a Viking ships oars in the water heading into battle. This morning the centipede wasn’t ready for battle instead the lengthy insect was attempting to escape the floodwaters of last nights plumbing drama.
This is where the story really begins, at the point of discovery of a small wet spot outside of our bathroom door. I didn’t want to think about the wet spot. I wanted to linger on how he traced “I love you” on my back and waited for me to notice his code. I made him wait. I always make him wait. I wanted to linger on his silent evocations of love. But there was a wet spot on my floor. Both he and I turned to the cat in our minds; the cat was the most likely suspect.
Certainly she wasn’t innocent she often found ways to annoy us, force us to clean her mess, be it fur, dead animals she had convinced herself she killed and the occasional well-matted fur ball left in the right spot for us to step on
Certainly, this wet spot on my carpet was the work of her evil machinations to dominate our household and eventually the world. I put my nose down to the wet spot, hoping to find her innocent but afraid I might get my nose too close to something very unpleasant. No odor…nothing. She was absolved in my mind, but not his. He kept insisting she was the culprit, and I almost gave in until the turned to the bathroom door and noticed in the corner more wet carpet—she certainly had no part in more wet carpet. I flung open the closet door to reveal two water tanks; one for upstairs one for downstairs. I revealed a wet floor. He came barging through, male intensity and a desire to ascertain and fix the situation. This time the situation would not be fixed with male bravado, not even a well-placed phone call to the plumber would slow the amount of water issuing forth from the pipes.
At this moment, I wished I could go back to when he traced “I love you” on my back and hold time right there, far away from the water.

Red Nails

As promised, creative inspirations will ensue here. I am nervous to put this on the blog, not because I am afraid of people and their criticism...cause I know what I can do and can't do, but I am freaked out someone will find my stuff, and pass it off as their own, which would break my heart. Although, I think to myself it will be a really small world that reads my blog and anything I put on here will be rough draft, no where near the final product so here I go with gustooooooo....



"Always, her painted red fingernails haunt me. They haunt me because I haven’t buried her like she buried me. The point of origin is my memory of her digging in the earth; using these glossy red nails, fake nails, to get in and under the moist dirt. She was compulsive about burying anything she had to explain. I remember a picture, a photograph, it must have been a birthday, because someone captured her image bowed over a blue balloon, and there in the centre were the red fingernails. There isn’t a single photograph or childhood memory without those fingernails always pointing, grasping, clawing raking over every truth and covering every child she had. Now as I am older, unearthed I find myself standing in the beauty section of drugstores, in front of the display for fake nails. Her brand is there. I finger the boxes, wondering if after 45 minutes of inspecting labels I will purchase her nails for myself."

When the pipe breaks the water will flow, grasshopper

Well, when you notice a wet spot on your floor, sometimes it doesn't pay to investigate where it is coming from...Why I do, I don't know!

So, outside my bathroom, was an odd singular wet spot. It was there all day and had gotten slightly worse by the end of the evening. So I alerted Dylan to the situation, we both couldn't figure it out, but then I noticed weird coloring near the water heater closet and felt the ground around there and sure enough it was damp as well. So we opened the water heater closet and Dylan noticed the top of one them was leaking. He touched it...just touched it, nothing else...and well from there is the point where the pipe burst and we began the process of bailing water and trying to call anyone who would help us solve the issue of water that wouldn't stop running.

Essentially from what we can figure at this point, is that the minerals in our water corroded the connection from the water to the hot water tank...so what Dylan touched was the last remaning vestiges keeping the water from flowing copiously out and into our home. So for the next 45mins we rotated bucket...three, at an alarming rate, so much so my back hurts and Dylan is pooched. No plumber would come and we had to call the city to shut of the water main...this means the WHOLE house has NO running water...none, nada, nil. And really, I knew it would be a struggle to not have water, considering I am a water hog, just in my drinking style, forget my cleaning needs...but the kicker was, oh and it hurts to say this even now, the kicker and true kick in the teeth was when I realized at 5am we would not being having any coffee...NO COFFEE...WAH WAH WAH WAH...

Of course once you wake up and your body starts functioning there are other issues surrounding water needs. Uhm and I am an avid hand washer...no water...this is 3rd world living, and I am a first world girl...PLUMBING is my SAFETY network...without running water, I am lost, feeble, and weak.

Okay, so a bit of the dramatic, although it sure puts everything in perspective, the luxury I have and have had.

And it came to life...

Okay school is back in session. And I hate it. I was loving this campus during the summer. Empty hallways, empty classrooms...now, all I have is empty heads. AND LOTS OF THEM...crowding the hallway, making line-ups I have to stand in for three hours, messing up the bathroom, yelling in the hallways...THEY"RE BACK! And I want to send them back to wherever they came from!
Yes, Scrooge of Academia I am!

I dare you

I challenge you...
I push you...
go forward, find those letters at the end of the page, fill those spaces with ink...
I dare you to wrap your arms around your dreams...
go the length, and search out the depth of your ability...
I am not part of the no where people, I haven't slipped between the cracks,
I refuse to grind against the membranes...
I will not be shaped and moulded by anyone but myself...
I dare you trace the edges of your pity and see where your inspirations come from
I am the dreamer, the constant dreamer
the vigilant dreamer