Saturday, November 29, 2003

Home again home again jiggidy jig.

So my mom's Rumtopf died. Well, it didn't die exactly as much as a bunch of fruit fly maggots died in it. Yeah, ew.
So I said, that's strange that there were maggots in it, cause I thought that fruit fly cycles were much faster than that, but oh, did they die in it, I guess?
SO, my dad said, OF COURSE they died in it, they were probably like "eck, yeeek" (insert here vision of my dad making maggot-surprised-at-being-born-into-sea-of-fruity-fermented-rum-and-subsequently-dying expressions, complete with above sound-effects).

*sigh* Yeah, it's good to be home.

Cheers.

Thursday, November 20, 2003

Afraid of the Dark

Well, I gave the Globe a chance... but fine, since they don't want my stellar article, I'll put it up here for everyone (yeah, 1...) to enjoy. I sincerely hope it revolutionizes your perspectives, heh heh. (But seriously folks, if it does any revolutionizing whatsoever, write angry emails to the globe telling them what they missed out on... their loss! ;) .)

Afraid of the Dark

I am twenty years old, and I am a woman. On Mondays and Wednesdays, I take drop-in box classes. I am taught to visualize the assailant that I am punching. I remember the words for S.I.N.G. Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin. And sometimes, when I’m walking alone after dark, I carry my keys in my hand. I am nervous, not about what I know to be out there, but about what I don’t know is out there. I’m not worried about the people they’ve already caught.

This is what I am thinking as I walk to a friend’s house one Monday night in late September. I have just parted ways with another girl, who, before she turns to enter the house where I have left her, asks me, “Are you alright to walk home?” She is not referring to whether or not I’ve had too much to drink. In fact, the two of us have just finished working on a film project. Her question pertains to my safety, a potential issue that, as young women in the dark, we are always aware of. She wants to be reassured that I am not afraid. Flippantly, I reply, “Oh don’t worry, no one’s going to kill me.” We laugh, but then I
start walking and reconsider my remark. It is only 7:30, in a well-lit neighbourhood inhabited mostly by students; it won’t be still here until the morning rolls around. The likelihood of someone actually killing me is very slim, but that may be the worst
case scenario. Sobered, I quicken my step. Alone in the night, my nerves are on edge.

What am I afraid of? I am afraid of the dark; I am afraid of the night, and I am not alone. My phobia is shared by women worldwide. The dark has become a symbol for our fear of the unknown, fear of things and people we can’t control, just as we can’t control the retreat of daylight into night that makes it dangerous for us to leave our homes by ourselves. Nor is this
metaphor a new one. Since the 1970’s women’s groups everywhere have been staging “Take Back the Night” marches to do just that -- “take back” our right to walk in the dark without fear. It is a right that I covet dearly, and yet, as I get older I feel it
slipping away from me. As cities get bigger and consequently crime rates go up, we aren’t as safe as we were before. I see evidence of this everywhere.

While flipping through the “Instructional Sports Skills” book for Fall and Winter at my university, I come across a class called “Self-Defense for Women.” “Be prepared both mentally and physically for self-defense situations,” says the description. “Striking, break-away and simple controlling techniques will be practised.” Even while I understand and resent the implications of this class, I find myself thinking that it might not be such a bad idea to sign up. It’s only $40, I think, and after all, you never know.

When I left home to go to university in a tougher city, I left behind the safety I felt at home to walk unaccompanied after dark. When I went home for Thanksgiving in October that year, I expected that safety to greet me, but it wasn’t there anymore. A series of rapes and attacks in my home town, just after school started, left my parents pressing cab money into my hands and telling me in no uncertain terms that my practice of walking even ten minutes home by myself was over for good. That rapist hurt many people when he assaulted them, or their daughters, or sisters. Indirectly, he hurt every woman in the area by taking away part of the freedom we enjoyed in a smaller city. Now everywhere, at home and at school, when it’s dark I feel like a caged bird. The only way I’m really safe is if I’m at home or with a friend. I’m not allowed to fly free.

Now you may be thinking the solution is quite obvious, simply make sure you have someone else with you at all times if you’re walking in the dark. If you are thinking this, then you have missed the point completely. This is not to say that I don’t try to
make such arrangements wherever possible. It is a practice that every young woman has branded into her routine out of necessity. However, being a student, having meetings and classes after dark, and no reliable form of transportation besides your own two feet, it is frequently inconvenient, if not downright impossible, to have someone else with you all the time. The point is that we should not have to have an after-dark companion, but we do. We should not see sinister possibilities in familiar surroundings just because it is night, but we do. We should not have to be afraid of the dark. But we do.

I am twenty years old; I am a woman; and I will not accept that as an excuse. I want to be safe; I want to be free; and the only person I want to rely on to provide these things is me. I don’t want to be afraid of the dark.



Ta-daah!

Cheers.
silverlined83@yahoo.ca

Sunday, November 16, 2003

I have succumbed...

To what you ask?
What could the ineffible, infallible, (incorrigeable) silverlined have possibly in a million trillion years have fallen prey to??

Christmas.

Yes, it's sad but true folks. I, the cynic, the anti-, and the pagan have gone Christmas shopping in November. *sigh* And I had fun. And I can't wait to come home.


(Christmas) Cheers.
silverlined83@yahoo.ca

Wednesday, November 12, 2003

La jalousie m'étouffe

C'est ca les copains (veuillez excuser les accents, le html m'échappe un peu, depuis l'été), il y a quelque temps que je me trouve jalouse de tous les autres bloggers qui ont les pages plus belles que la mienne. Alors, une fois que je ne suis plus écrasée par mes cours, je vais commencer les améliorations. Disons éclairer un peu le clair de lune?

Phew. On this day a year from now, I'd like to be in France. On remembrance day next year I want to visit the Juno Beach centre in Courselles(?)-sur-mer. So I'm practicing, I'm also starting to brush up my html so that I can fancy up the site...
Might as well put all I learned this summer to good use.

Cheers
silverlined83@yahoo.ca

Sunday, November 09, 2003

Time for Something Real

It occurs to me that I have been avoiding doing any real writing for a while now. Truthfully, I haven't exactly done anything that was non-school productive in a couple of weeks. It's a true sign that I'm getting ill. I woke up this morning with a pounding headache behind my forehead... we all know what that means. Yay sinus infection! And what timing!
Bah,
Anyway,

I've been thinking a lot about next year lately. If you haven't heard, my family and I are going away. I believe that my mother has already mentally packed her bags. And who could blame her? As crazily-hectic as next year is going to be with the almost constant moving from country to country, it's going to be fucking amazing, and I'm so looking forward to it. I'm beginning to realize how much everyone in my family needs this getaway, and it makes me grateful that we have the opportunity....

Again, anyway,

The people of the house have just come home with the porn for our porn'n'chicken night. Watch the movie "Porn'n'Chicken" and you'll understand...

So I'm off to watch deep space sex adventures.

silverlined83@yahoo.ca

Monday, November 03, 2003

I HAVE A...

... niggling feeling in the back of my head, like i've forgotten to do something, or I've done something wrong, or someone else has, that's still bothering me. Something is bothering me.
It's making me nauseous.

It's making me feel like doing crazy things... like last week I cut off all my hair. I like it... but it was crazy... I just came home and cut off my hair... like 2 feet of it!

Maybe it's the weather... Seasonal Affective Disorder or whatever...
Everyone knows the human race really should be in hibernation.

Cheers?
silverlined83@yahoo.ca