Homesick

Published November 10, 2014 by maryhelenc

I haven’t had a good late night/early morning blog vent in awhile!

For the first time in the six months that I packed up & ran away, I’m actually homesick. Not even just a little homesick. Like I want to call someone at home & cry like a little kid at summer camp homesick.

I love my new home. I love that I’m surrounded by nature. I love my gym. I love the air & I love the city. But the more I invest in my writing again, the more my professional dissatisfaction at my regular job grows because I want to be writing full time. It was easy to love my johnny punch clock job when I wasn’t writing. But now that I’m in the field again, I’m growing more and more restless, because I want to be working in my field full time. I want to be on the front lines when things happen & ask questions & bring people news. I want so badly to write something that makes a difference in someone’s life & resonates with them & makes them think & grow. I have a talent & I want to use it to impact the world in a positive way. But then I feel guilty because I should be thankful that I have a job. After all, the unemployment rate is skyrocketing & I’m fortunate enough to have a job & I should be grateful, right? But truthfully, my job is a very fine job. They pay me well. They are good to me. But I think about how I wanted to bring people news that would make them think & ask questions & better their communities. Or I’d help people think so they’d become their best selves & happy. And I get so sad because I do none of those things. I sell people high priced luxury items. But I don’t want to be the person who’s aggressively selling phones to the waitress at dinner or all we talk about are how we’re going to sell more phones. I want a career that’s meaningful, that I’m proud of, where I make a difference in someone’s world, anyone’s. And I’m not doing that.

Also, the girls are getting bullied at their school. The angriest teen wants to go back to her friends. And I don’t blame her, because sometimes I’m lonely too. I miss my friends, who are like family to me. With the exception of one coworker & a couple of old classmates, I haven’t made a lot of friends yet & I find myself missing my Windsor people so. I feel like I spend a lot of time telling people that I miss them, mostly because I kind of hope that they miss me too & I just kind of want to hear it. That might sound stupid, but when you’re lonely, sometimes it’s nice to hear that someone wishes you were with them. It makes you feel like you’re important, that you matter. I’m a social person & I love company & I don’t have any. I spend most of my time alone & it’s kind of lonely. I used to pretend it didn’t bother me, because I was so bad ass, but sometimes I wish I could just call up someone for a last minute coffee after work. I love living alone. I love having my independence, but I miss my friends from home more than I’ve cared to admit & some nights I find myself missing my familiar skyline, the one I looked at every night for 13 years & meant home.

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But I know “going home” isn’t really an option, despite my friend Amanda telling me it’s a really great idea. Yes, I have friends, but the root issues are still the same, which is a lack of strong career prospects in my field, which is my only real dream. The punch clock job was supposed to be temporary until I found a media job. But then I stopped looking until I started at Cineklik & the excitement of working in my field as well as the support from those who know me best made me miss it all, more than I should. I just sometimes feel on an island alone with the girls. All of the people I love the most are hours away in Sarnia or Windsor & all of the places hiring in my field are hours away in the other direction in Toronto. And I’m in the middle, feeling very removed & alone.

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I hate to sound so negative, because running away was a really good plan, because I’ve learned so much so far. I’ve learned I can put myself in an unfamiliar situation & I can thrive. I learned that I can be on my own & I can handle stuff without anyone’s help, everything from dental surgery to getting lost & everything in between. All of these things have made me even more bad ass than I was before, because I can adapt to new & different situations better than I did before. There are so many good things that have come from this experience & I need to focus on all of them & not how not everything has gone perfectly.

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Truthfully though, it’s not the city I miss; it’s Saturday breakfasts with the legal assistant ladies. It’s going to dusty old bookstores with my favourite person in the world & last minute adventures with Rena & Amanda to 8 mile. It’s the people I miss & I miss them so. But I also know that part of life’s journey means being separated from our loved ones sometimes. I’ve learned which friendships will prevail through periods of absence & which won’t. I’ve learned that some affection can withstand ages apart, and once put back together, it can be wonderful. And I learned that I can survive on my own, which is a lesson I lose sight of when I do get homesick & just want to hear a friend’s voice or see their face because it’s comforting & makes me feel happy.

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Tomorrow I’ll feel better & I’ll make it a better day. Tomorrow I’ll focus on finding something to enjoy about where I live now. And I’ll remind myself that it’s okay to feel lonely, or sad. Not everything needs to be pretty or perfect all of the time. As long as you make an effort to make the next day a better one.

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Bad Blood

Published November 6, 2014 by maryhelenc

My teenage daughter is exactly like me.

Seriously.

She looks just like me, has my mannerisms, speech patterns, & even stands with her toe pointed like I do. She’s also really nice & it gets her into trouble.

She ran afoul of two teen girls who were torturing her friend, to the point where we had to call her parents because she had written a suicide note. My daughter went to teachers, parents, and even took these girls to task on her own. We may be nice, but we take no shit. Attack someone we care about & we go full Pitbull. These girls were already outraged because the object of their affection (whom is a pint sized predator) is smitten with my child. So, the cyber bullying began. We’d block them on her social media, they’d open a new account & begin again. We tightened the settings, they’d use a friend’s. I brought screencaps to school & told the parents. One mom took action, the other accused my child & I of being jealous of them. Uh. Okay.

Anywho, my daughter’s tale is just one of a million stories of bullying. They’re on the news all of the time. You see all of the adults commenting that it’s such a shame, those poor babies, where do they learn this…only to click to the next article to read them mocking a celebrity, calling her fat, ugly. The most disgusting thing I have ever seen was the comments on a beautiful article about Dan Diaz, the widower of late assisted suicide/death with dignity activist Brittany Maynard. This man lost his wife & we’re mocking him, claiming he hoped she’d take her own life so he could have a healthy wife, that he’s milking it (his wife has been dead for four days), etc. We’ve become a society so deplorable that we are mocking a man who will bury his beloved wife.

So, where do these little pukes learn this disgusting behaviour?

FROM YOU.

Yes, you. They learn it from you. Every time you take a shot on Miley Cyrus or Taylor Swift, or any other celebrity (this includes the time I called John Mayer the president of Doucheland), you are teaching your kids to bully & devalue human life. When you justify it by saying its a comment board & you don’t have to be nice, you are teaching children to defend bullying because the victim wore the wrong clothes or whatever. When you mock a woman’s appearance or cat call a woman, you’re teaching your child to objectify women. When you mock a man who’s mourning his wife, you’re teaching your child to devalue love, a marriage & that this man’s suffering means nothing. When Robin Williams passed in August, people tortured his daughter Zelda so relentlessly she had to leave social media. During a time when a human being needed the most love, we as a society ripped her heart out. Then we wonder why the next generation is a bunch of evil little shits. Because they learn it from you.

For years, I’ve been accused of being too nice. I’m always explaining myself & that’s okay. But the truth is that there are billions of hateful people in this world. They’re mean, heartless & cruel. There are billions of selfish bigots in this world. I do not wish to be one of them. I take flack for wanting to be the woman I want my daughters to be, because apparently that’s odd. But I am raising three beautiful & brilliant women. I want them to be strong & brave but also radiate compassion & Grace. So, I must do the same. I refuse to become the person who can’t find one thing in the world that makes the day amazing, even if it’s just that I saw a bunny & it was cute. I like who I am & I want to be the girl who is nice & gives as much as I can to others. I like being that woman because I need to teach my daughters how to spread love. I won’t take people’s cruelty lying down, but I will not spread misery & I hope this teaches my daughters the desire to spread love. I know other moms who feel the same way & I hope we can raise a generation of kids who are loving & not cruel.

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So, next time you sit behind a user name & take a shot on a random stranger, think about how you’d feel if it was your kid & a classmate. Think about if it was a classmate saying that to your kid. Think about if Miley Cyrus was saying that to you. After all, you’re a stranger to her as she is to you. Say she walked up to you & mocked your hair & your dog & your clothes & said she hoped you died of a drug overdose. Sounds ridiculous, right? Well, that’s what you sound like when you hide behind your user name & blast them…& you’re teaching the next generation that it’s okay.

Wonderland

Published November 3, 2014 by maryhelenc

I’m a weird people watcher.

I work retail & in media so I spend a lot of time observing people, sometimes so much so that I seem in my own little world. The conclusion that I reach most often is that people are stupid. But other times some of the stuff they say & do (that is probably stupid) makes me question the world around me & where our priorities are.

Today, two University students (I figured this out thanks to their Western sweaters & constant references to attending university. I’m guessing they’re freshmen) were complaining about their friend & how she was “totally wasting her time on that guy.” They stated that the couple was not listed as “in a relationship” on FB & there’s only one photo of them together on her phone, and she only mentions him sometimes, etc. This clearly meant it wasn’t going to work. After rolling my eyes back into my head so far that I saw my own brain, it made me wonder just how dependent we are on social media for instant validation & gratification.

I have a lot of social media. You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr & Instagram. I post a lot of pics of my kids, inspirational quotes that make me happy, selfies, and song lyrics. Also, if you follow me on Tumblr you’ll find out I have a huge crush on WWE superstar Seth Rollins. Also, I’m kind of awkward & weird. Riveting stuff. But you’ll find very little about my “real life”, except for that time I inadvertently posted my home address on the internet. My friendships & relationships aren’t any less important to me because I don’t openly discuss it or post every detail about it on social media. I have only had a relationship status on FB once. I don’t have a relationship status & I have no real plans to ever change that. My best friend the Psych Major doesn’t even have a Facebook account. Does that mean that she doesn’t exist? (then I remember her obsession with Pinterest, so yes, yes she does)

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I post a lot of photos of me & my children because my family lives far away & I know they’d want to see the girls. Also, I’m a proud mom. But I always think the best nights ever & the best friendships/relationships are the ones not all over social media. If you’re enjoying the company, the activity, etc. You’re likely not on social media. I always feel like those who go all gooey on social media are overcompensating for a lack of happiness or comfort in the relationship. This obviously doesn’t apply to everyone, as my good friend Nancy from Whispered Inspirations will randomly get all gooey about her husband & I often joke that they were only put on Earth to make other couples jealous. But I always wonder why we need to publicly announce we’re with someone, we’re in love, we’re so cute, etc. Are we trying to convince our FB friends or ourselves?

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This is just another part of the evolution of old MHC to new MHC. Why? Because Old MHC was social media girl, who shared way too much about her life. New MHC realized I was posting my entire life on social media to prove I was enjoying it more than I was. The only parts that I wasn’t documenting were my relationship with my significant other (aside from my 900 photos of our respective children) & spending time with the Psych Major & her son. Oddly enough, those were the parts where I was most comfortable & myself. Once I stopped trying to prove I was happy on social media, I started actually being happy. I was enjoying friends & family & events. There are still photos on social media, but those are generally concerts, big events, or random weirdness, not “every time we hang out look I love my friends while I status that I love my friends omg life is so rad”. Instead, I’m actually interacting with the people who took the time to interact with me.

The old MHC wanted some kind of public validation from the men I was with because that meant I was in a secure relationship. New MHC doesn’t need that because I know if I ever did feel insecure, I can tell my beau & he’ll alleviate my concern because he cares about me & wants me to be as happy as I try to make him. Old MHC thought that this type of validation meant that the man I was with was proud of me. New MHC realized that when a man is proud of his lady he spends time with her, makes an effort for her & his actions match his words. That matters most. Old MHC would have done the FB creep to figure out if the man I am currently with seemed more invested in other girlfriends to assess if that meant he did or didn’t care about me. New MHC doesn’t give an eff. He’s with me now & that’s the most important thing. What he did for me in the past or for another girl matters not; what matters is how he treats me in the present tense. New MHC also adopted a format that I’ve applied to every important aspect of my life; what is mine is MINE. It is not yours to dissect online. It is not yours to judge. It is mine & I intend to keep it mine. But this doesn’t just apply to my love life. This applies to everything in my life. I do not talk about my job, my career plans (well, I talk about my writing, but that’s because it’s my true love). I do not talk about my home. I do not talk about my relationships with my friends. I do not talk about relationships with my mother, my siblings, etc. I mostly discuss random observations & kid cuteness…and my cat. Sorry it’s not so awesome.

The other major reason that I do not talk about my life in an open setting is because those who mean most to me read my blog & follow me on social media & I do not want them to learn about my feelings through my blog or social media accounts. I want them to learn about my life through me. Back in the day, people did this thing called “communicate” & as I never shut up, I’m a huge fan! I think about my own parents & their marriage & affection was personal & private & that’s what I think we should aspire for. Adversely, there are people I have evicted from my life who still read my blog (*waves*) & I do not want them infiltrating my beautiful life with their toxicity & I find them having any access to even the tiniest details of my life to be bothersome. So, I keep the things that matter most to me to myself…and about three other people. I even find publishing this awkward & had the Texan proofread it before I published it because I was worried it was too personal for my liking.

So, I laughed at these two girls because they’re mocking their friend but she’s probably really happy. She’s with someone & she’s comfortable & secure & doesn’t see any reason to advertise it to the masses. She is enjoying her relationship, not documenting it. Maybe I need to take a lesson from this faceless girl & apply this to the rest of my life & post fewer photos of my kids, my cat & selfies. But I know if I stopped with the former, my kids’ grandma would beat me up. But maybe we all need to enjoy our lives more & not publicize them. Keep our personal lives personal. Talk to people @ dinner instead of photographing our food. Your dinner wasn’t any less delicious because no one saw it. Use your phone to make phone calls & take a moment to hear their voice. Enjoy nature without a filter. Live.

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No Way No

Published October 30, 2014 by maryhelenc

When the Jian Ghomeshi situation started, I initially defended his right to privacy (which I’ve since changed my stance & apologized). Now, I say we should be opening the conversation to discussions of consent, trust, the differences between kink & abuse, but amidst the circus & the finger pointing & the gossip, it’s not happening. I’m not one to pussyfoot around conversation & I like to back up what I say, so let’s have this chat, shall we?

Read the rest of this entry →

How You Get the Girl

Published October 28, 2014 by maryhelenc

Let me fill you in on some random facts about your favourite blogger MHC.

I talk way too much. Like, I never shut up pretty much EVER. I probably talk in my sleep. I talk to my cat Peachy like she’s people. I overthink to the nth degree. I fear intimacy & commitment. I over analyze so I’m always 19 steps ahead for no reason & when I figure it out I need to breathe in a bag. I have an irrational fear of abandonment. Then there’s my Fangirl like love for Taylor Swift. It’s really huge. I’m in my 30′s.

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I have a fiery temper & strong opinions & I’m stubborn af & I will not back down when I think I’m right. I get way too defensive when I think people question my way of doing things & I’d rather cough up blood than see a doctor. Oh, and I use 80′s slang for fun. I watch terrible movies. I laugh when skateboarders fall down, I hang up on people to play Legend of Zelda & I have a ridiculously childish celebrity crush on Seth Rollins. I tweet too much. I spend too much time on social media. I take too many selfies. I sing along with mall music & dance in aisles & hug inanimate objects at the mall & I wear a Pikachu hoodie & I’m a grown woman. When it comes to my writing I’m a perfectionist. And I’m a total bitch first thing in the morning.

All of these things used to bother me. I was obsessed with trying to be perfect so that people would like me. I tried to bury them down so far that no one would see them. Then one day…I stopped. I owned all of that. I have flaws. Lots of em! I’m an over emotional, hyper focused goofy ball of energy who talks too much. Way too much. And you know what, that’s totes cool.

However, for those who know me best, there’s also the rest of the list. I’m strong & I’m brave. I give infinite chances to those who deserve them. I like to think myself a kind hearted soul who loves to be nice just because I can & my greatest joy is making those I love happy. I fancy myself pretty smart, and I often joke that I am the best in the world at what I do (a line I borrowed from a great and wise multi hyphenate…Chris Jericho). I’m quite pretty in the right light, I take great pride in my work, my family & my ability to be the role model my daughters deserve so they don’t need TV to find one. I love my career so much that I take pride in the tiniest things. I still have an innocent view of the world, of love, that people are essentially good & often I’m right. I’m determined; there’s not much that I don’t get if I want it badly enough. Some people have told me I have a lovely singing voice. I lost 85lbs on my own without a fad diet. I kick crossfit’s ass. I’m pretty much the raddest chick that I know. In order to be the woman I’m most proud of, I needed to accept that there are parts that suck. And that’s okay.

In order to appreciate all of the amazing things that I am capable of being, I needed to accept that I’m not perfect and the list of flaws help me define my strengths. You cannot be strong until you’ve been weak. You cannot be proud of who you are if you can’t look at yourself honestly & accept every facet of who you are. So, I do & I’m proud of all of it, even the talking to my cat. She gets me.

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I’ll always be the girl who shuts herself away when she’s stressed about stuff that isn’t even real & writes paragraphs until she’s over it. I’ll always be the girl who talks too much & struggles to let people get close to her & will wonder if the people in my life are gonna bail (except Erica. She stays forever. She’s my Murican soulmate. <3). But that’s okay because those are small things & the amazing things I do outweigh the quirks I have & I aspire each day to work on those flaws so that they remain the most minuscule part of my life & people only see how bad ass I am. While I accept them, I also handle them in my own way so that they don’t take over my life. I can’t bury them anymore, because I want those in my life to love me for me; good & irksome. So, I accept them as I would the flaws of others & assume that those in my life will accept them too. Because there is nothing in life that will ever be 100% positive. There’s always something crappy. But if you just own the negative & focus on the positive, you can be really happy just being yourself.

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Out of the Woods

Published October 24, 2014 by maryhelenc

I love Taylor Swift.

I know, grown women in their 30′s likely shouldn’t admit this, but I do. She’s beautiful & talented with wisdom beyond her years. Her album Red is one of the best written albums I’ve ever heard & if you listened to All too Well & didn’t cry the first time, then you have no soul.

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Taylor Swift writes about her life, which is likely why her music resonates. She writes about her joy, her pain, her adventures. Of course, people choose to dissect her lyrics to find the call out to her former loves (Red was widely speculated to be about Jake Gylenhaal), often to hilarious results (like the speculation that I Knew You Were Trouble was about One Directioner Harry Styles, despite their relationship beginning AFTER the single was released). Recent interviews with Swift show her continuing disenchantment with the world; she hasn’t dated in two years so she won’t be a punchline. She has security with her at all times & you must surrender your phone to enter her apartment building. This young lady has become jaded & I don’t blame her.

One thing Swift has stressed when promoting her latest effort 1989 (which hits stores 10/27) is that she’s sick of being labelled as the girl who writes diss tracks about her exes. Swift writes about her life. Sometimes she sees things a certain way. Swift was also quick to point out that famous men like Ed Sheeran and Bruno Mars are universally praised for penning songs about their exes. Sheeran’s album + was written about a young woman he dated before fame, whom he writes about again on his latest effort x. But it’s his song Don’t, which he verbally assaults a former lover who cheated on him (later confirmed to be Ellie Goulding) that generated praise for his honest songwriting & fans took to social media to put Goulding on blast. Meanwhile, the same fans & reporters attack Swift for “calling out her exes” & her immaturity, often defending the alleged exes & claiming Swift deserves mistreatment from men because she writes songs about them. Swift took Entertainment Tonight to task for this & she wanted the music to speak for itself. So, when she released the track list for 1989, naturally they responded with excitement about the album, right?

Oh.

Oh.

I guess I understand Taylor Swift because I’m a writer. I write about my life. I write about my attempts to navigate through life without screwing it up, which happens almost never. If you are part of my life, I have probably written about you. The greatest compliment I’ve ever received was when someone told me reading what I wrote inspired them to be a better person (ironically enough, it was the person who once said the cruelest thing anyone has ever said to me). Although I don’t believe I have that power, it was nice to think that my endless drivel meant something to someone. But yes, I write about the people in my life. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes I’m not so nice. But, I write about my life, how I see events, the world around me. I try to keep it cute, but I wouldn’t be a very authentic blogger if I didn’t write about my life honestly.

However, I think it’s to a lesser degree than people think. A couple of years ago, I wasn’t happy. So, I wrote about my jaded feelings towards a belief system I no longer had (which I’ve reclaimed, albeit a bit smarter). I wrote about losing my faith in love (which I reclaimed by loving myself) & my ability to trust & songs on the radio & whatever caught my fancy…because it made ME feel better. But everyone thought it was about them; friends, family, former loves, everyone. But the truth is, none of you crossed my mind. I’m sure Taylor Swift isn’t thinking “that’ll teach him,” when she’s penning a song. She’s probably thinking “This makes me feel happy.” I know it’s weird, but not everything is a calculated dig. Writing is my therapy; it doesn’t always make sense. Sometimes I just need to put words out because when I’m doing it, I’m very at peace with myself. The same seems true for Taylor Swift. But for some reason, she’s painted as terrible & fans take up for Harry Styles & his innocence (meanwhile, Ellie Goulding remains on blast).

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The most beautiful art comes from real life. The character of Daisy Buchanan was inspired by F Scott Fitzgerald’s wife Zelda. Most of Edgar Allen Poe’s work was brought about from his feelings after the deaths of his parents, foster father & wife at various points in his life. The greatest songs were written about a concept or person that the writer was passionate about. Life inspires great works because it’s authentic & real & people understand it.

It’s funny, for all people do to dissect & discredit Taylor Swift, there’s at least one song we all relate to (my current one is Come Back…Be Here) & listen to when we’re feeling down, or romantic, etc. That’s because the emotions Taylor sings about are real. So, let’s stop wondering who she wrote about & listen to what she’s singing & enjoy her music. After all, music was written to be enjoyed, not analyzed.

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Headphones

Published October 22, 2014 by maryhelenc

While I generally do not care to discuss my relationship with my boyfriend (as I like having that part of my life fairly private), since he pretty much suggested this entire post (complete with the title), I kind of have to.

He’s an interesting & captivating man, compassionate & smart & sweet & pretty much every good adjective you can think of. He supports my crazy desire to become the world’s greatest reporter/cell phone princess & reads literally every word I write. But, in addition to all of these amazing things, he entertains my needs to ask questions.

I’m an inquisitive sort; I need to know everything about the world around me. So, I ask a million questions; about the world, my family, etc. I ask him a million questions every day; how is your day, your life, your daughter, tell me about your job, etc. and he answers them all. I think it’s because he’s like me; he likes information. Whether it’s sports, politics, current events, world religion, he likes to know. I think that’s why we work; he’s the intellectual and I’m the journalist, the supplier of information. He loves to learn & I love to inform, we’re quite the pair. Also, he hasn’t complained about my inability to shut up ever, so either he’s mastered tuning me out or is a glutton for punishment.

However, he possesses dual citizenship & unlike most Canadians, he would actually prefer to be American. We have conversations about when Thanksgiving is supposed to be (pro-tip; he’s wrong) & I often end conversations with “YOU WERE BORN HERE.” So, we tend to differ on the “American” vs. “Canadian” way.

Today’s horrible shooting in Ottawa put a halt to our mock fights about national pride to listen & read about what was happening. This was a horrible thing & a young man lost his life for no good reason. He’ll never have another birthday or Christmas. His beloved dogs will never see their master again. His parents will never hear his voice on the phone & my heart breaks for them. No 24 year old should be taken from this world in such a terrible way & I hope that we as a nation will stand by the Cirillo family through this horrific time.

I wanted to know why this happened, what measures will be taken to protect our Prime Minister & Members of Parliament going forward, how did a man with a gun get into Parliament, is there a second shooter, etc. The RCMP was mum. The Canadian Press seemed mute except about the lockdown. Meanwhile, CBS already had the identity of the shooter & breaking news site heavy.com had a bunch of facts about him, before the Canadian Press knew what was up. I was so frustrated, because as a journalist (albeit a fluffy celeb journalist) I didn’t understand why no one was informing us & why we as Canadians seemed to be okay with that. I texted my beau a huge rant, which prompted my epiphany that perhaps his “American” thought process wasn’t so off base & he told me to write this because I’m a genius.

The truth is; we get the media we deserve.

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My American friends are not afraid to question everything they hear. My Facebook timeline is inundated with them questioning their government, their police, the FBI, Mark Zuckerberg, and the list goes on & on. They live in a “stranger danger” sort of world. When the Boston Marathon was horrifically bombed, we had real time updates from every reliable news agency in the world, as the American media kept people appraised. We knew who, why, who was at large in hours & people knew what was happening. Today, people in Canada sat questioning how this happens here & when I would ask why it happened, I was told I was nitpicking the coverage instead of the tragedy & shame on me.

Actual quote from cbc.ca's live blog. This MAY have been what started my rant

Actual quote from cbc.ca’s live blog. This MAY have been what started my rant

While Americans live in stranger danger, we in Canada do the opposite; we don’t care. We’re ostriches. Political scandals are overlooked (one of my colleagues once wrote an amazing piece for a magazine we all wrote for about Canada’s apathy to political corruption) because that doesn’t happen here (yes it does), we flip out whenever there’s a major crime because it doesn’t happen here (a prime example was when a meth lab blew up near my old house right before I moved & everyone freaked because that doesn’t happen here), and we’re so focused on being perfect utopia Canada that we miss that bad things happen here & we need to accept that so we can learn from it so it doesn’t happen anymore. People get murdered, there is crime, there is corruption & pretending it doesn’t happen won’t make it any less true. While my feelings towards Prime Minister Harper’s politics follow “I don’t agree with anything he says ever,” he was very realistic when he said we are not immune to terrorist attacks. We are not. Fortunately our Nation escaped this horrific day with only one tragic loss. But we need to be smart and arm ourselves with information, we need to ask questions so we won’t be shaking our heads wondering how this happened because it doesn’t happen in Canada. I love my Nation; I think it’s a beautiful place and I am so proud to be Canadian, but we are not a utopia and the biggest lesson we need to take from this tragedy is like Mr. Harper said, we are not immune to tragedy, so we need to stand in the face of these things and not hope it just goes away.

Perhaps we do need to borrow a page from our American brethren and accept that bad things happen and start asking questions. It is perfectly okay to question your government. It is okay to question law enforcement. It is okay to ask what is happening in the world around you, if you are safe, because when all is said and done, these people work for us to preserve our way of life and for the most part, they do a damned good job. But if we as Canadians are not asking, we won’t be informed and we’ll have to learn from our neighbours what’s happening in our own backyard. We cannot peer over the fence and ask America who is attacking us. We need to find out for ourselves.

So, ask questions. Seek knowledge. Make the media answer those questions. Hold them accountable and let’s make it a point to make sure we aren’t ostriches as the world goes to Hell around us, because it CAN happen here.

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Centuries

Published October 13, 2014 by maryhelenc

There are very few things in life that I can honestly say make me angry.

I don’t like to be angry, or irritated because I pride myself on being like Ruby Gloom, the happiest girl in the world. The only things in life that make me angry are;

1. Stupid people
2. People who make other people feel like crap.

When I first read about the disgusting Cloud photo hack, I was horrified. This was an enormous sex crime. These women were being violated in the worst way & most people said “they should know better.” I’m sorry, what? Their personal items were stolen & we’re blaming them? What? That’d be like me stealing all of your stuff & then the cops saying that because you only had an alarm system & not a dog too & some of these DVD’s were rated R, you asked for it. Silly, right? I went off on a number of Facebook pages when people blamed these women saying they shouldn’t have taken the pictures. Well, funny story; since the invention of the camera, people have taken nudes. Polaroids can get stolen too. Have a nice day.

It bothered me because we were basically telling women “Hey! If you’re famous, your bodies belong to us! Nope, it doesn’t matter that you don’t want us to see these photos, you make movies, I get to own you,” and that kind of made me sick. However, the ever classy & beautiful Jennifer Lawrence said what everyone should have said in her Vanity Fair piece

…this was not a scandal. It was a sex crime.

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Fast forward to the Wendy Williams show, where Williams publicly chided Lawrence, saying because she chose to take the photos (for then boyfriend Nicholas Hoult), she’s guilty & this probably gave her career a boost! She then encouraged fans to whoop & clap if they looked @ Lawrence’s photos.

Wait, what?

You’re encouraging people to say “yay! I violated a woman!” Williams claimed she wasn’t disgusting for looking at Lawrence’s photos because Lawrence took them. That’s like saying a person deserves to be raped because they once chose to have sex. Those photos were for Nicholas Hoult, Ms. Williams, NOT FOR YOU and yes, that does make you disgusting for looking. You are a horrible person & I hope Jennifer Lawrence never appears on your show again. Jennifer Lawrence is a three time Academy Award nominee & Best Actress award winner. She is the face of Dior & most notably Katniss Everdeen, the main character of the billion dollar franchise, The Hunger Games. Nude photos didn’t “give her career a boost.” Her career was already there.

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It’s funny how we preach that women should be able to do what they want with their bodies but then shame them when they do. I’m currently in a long distance relationship, as my boyfriend lives two hours away from me. I’ll admit that I have sent him risqué (for me) photos & may or may not have promised a “sexy Skype striptease.” When you don’t have the luxury of face time & physical contact, you use what you can. However, I also trust that he wouldn’t share those photos because we are both very private about our private life (in fact, much like my children, my references to my relationship will likely be minimal). I once knew a girl who sent risqué photos to a “friend” whenever she wanted him to come over. When my friend lived far away from her then boyfriend (now husband), she made him a risqué care package. It’s more common than you think. But, instead of teaching women to look at their bodies & sexuality as a filthy & dirty thing & how dare you want your man (or woman) to look at you & think you’re sexy (which is exactly why I sent the photos, because I want my man to think “hey, my lady is really sexy, I can’t wait to see her in person again,”), let’s teach people to stop hacking clouds & humiliating other people & looking at doesn’t belong to us. I’m pretty sure Wendy Williams wouldn’t want someone going through her phone; so I’m not sure why she felt it was okay to go through Jennifer Lawrence’s.

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