Summer Solstice Musings

A man once made a promise....

2011-10-12T23:38:00.000-04:00

Remember my last post? it was about beautiful people. Here's the cheat sheet (in case you don't feel like reading the actual post. Although you totally should. I kid. OK, I do not kid, you should seriously read it *wink, wink*):

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Well, here's an update. Or an epilogue if you will -even though it was just a blog post and not a book.

This time, it's about former female child soldiers in Africa.

And in this particular case, we all can help a man keep his promise to a group of very beautiful women caught in a conflict that wasn't theirs, that went to hell and back and all they want is a chance to live a normal life and help forge a better future for their children.

Abducted as children - as young as 8 or 9, and "forced to become wives, soldiers, cooks and porters" they are now adult women, back in the city with children of their own. Here's Ottawa-based photojournalist Marc Ellison's brief account of their story: A promise kept

Marc will be at the One World Film Festival here in Ottawa on October 13-16, 2011 (yes, that is tomorrow) to raffle a special edition of his upcoming book. There will also be a silent auction of some of his photographs.

ALL PROCEEDS from the book will go back to these women to help them afford things like school fees and sewing machines, according to Marc Ellison's website.

Won't you help keep this promise?

For more about Marc and his work, visit his website

The most beautiful person I have known

2011-10-10T10:00:00.000-04:00

I stumbled upon this quote today. Some of you may have heard it before. It was the first time for me and it hit home so hard, I wanna share it with you:

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Then, I wanted to add a picture but that wasn't an easy task. A search for "beauty" and "beautiful" didn't precisely show what I wanted. Then, it occurred to me that Colombian women know a lot about defeat and suffering. About struggle and loss. And yet they are compassionate, gentle and deep loving. So I googled "Colombian women" and in spite of almost getting lost in the sea of pictures of Sofia Vergara, I found this one.

Beautiful Colombian women

The resemblance between the woman on the left and my mother is uncanny. Even as I type this words, I am so deeply moved by it that I feel both like laughing and crying at the same time. My mother definitely knew about all those things. She was the sweetest, most gentle person I've ever known. If only I could tell you about the sacrifices she made, about the way she touched the lives of those around her regardless how how hard her life was.... And she hard an incredibly hard life, from the minute she was born. A life that was lost to domestic violence at 34 years old. Something Colombian women know very well too.

Yes, my mother is the most beautiful person I have known.

Mental Illness Awareness Week

2011-10-08T18:06:00.000-04:00

Did you know that it was Mental Illness Awareness Week this week? sadly, I only found out about it yesterday. And I think this is very sad indeed because if I, a person who is very much aware of mental illness and has become rather vocal about it in all the social networks didn't know about it, what chance has a regular Joe of hearing about it? Clearly, we need to do more to raise awareness.

Also, did you know that most people believe that mental disorders are rare and “happen to someone else."? However, an estimated 54 million Americans suffer from some form of mental disorder in a given year (I'll try and get the Canadian numbers later). Here's a very helpful article on how to recognize the warning signs from Mental Health America

According to MIAW Canada, people who struggle with a mental disorder often go through life without reaching out for help: They simply don’t know what’s wrong and feel they are just “different;” they feel they can beat it on their own; they are ashamed and try to hide their symptoms; exasperated family and friends tell them to “get over it;” or they reach out for help but their first experience leaves them feeling disregarded and misunderstood.

Mental Awareness week is over today. However, I'm asking you to please take a moment to read and share this. Help create Mental Illness awareness!

Resources

Mental Illness Awareness Week Canada (MIAW) @MIAWCanada

Canadian Alliance on Mental Illness and Mental Health (CAMIMH)

Health Canada

Royal Mental Health Group

Mood Disorders of Ontario

I wish I had cancer

2011-09-22T21:43:00.001-04:00

Yeah, you heard it right.

I know that I’m gonna get a lot of angry cancer patients on my case, thinking I’m mocking them. However, I am not.

While I’ve had been thinking of it it for quite a while, only until very recently I finally said it to someone other than myself, on a DM.

And I stand by it.

You see, I have an illness. But it’s a mental one. I look good on the outside. I haven’t lost ridiculous amounts of weight. I still have all my hair. I have a good colour. I don’t look like I’m ready to take my boat ride across the River Styx. Only that I am. And I’ve been there several times.

But Mental illnesses don’t get the sympathy or empathy from society that cancer does. Or Cystic Fibrosis. Or Muscular Dystrophy. Or any other of those “legitimate” illnesses.

People like me are mostly regarded as moody individuals. An annoyance, most of the time. Someone normal people need to stay away from because we are Debby Downers. Oh, it’s all in your head, I’ve been told many times. Or, you just have to count your blessings instead of focusing on your limitations. And sure, I’m all for counting my blessings. I’m very grateful that I don’t have to sleep on the street, that I’m not starving. That I am not being gang-raped, or tortured or enslaved. I’m also grateful for friends and the love they give me.

But the truth is that even if I we do the right thing and reach out when we have our lows, it becomes harder and harder to do as time goes by. Sure, friends and loved ones (spouses, children, etc) will try and help the first time they hear about it. And the second time. And the third time. And maybe even the fourth and fifth. But after a while, they do get tired. And that’s normal. They are only human too. And so, we become a burden. Because Mental Illnesses are hard to treat. The prognosis is gloomy for the most part. According to the Royal Mental Hospital Depression Research Centre (depression is what I have but it might as well be schizophrenia or any other mental illness), “Many people diagnosed with a major depression will fail to respond adequately to two medications of different classes and about 60 per cent will have a treatment resistant depression.” 60 PERCENT! And unless we commit suicide (gasp! yeah, I said. Because a lot of us actually do) we live a normally long life just like any other person free of any lethal disease. So we become this pain in the ass, gloomy, cranky, grumpy, sad people that no one likes to be around. Even those who love us, have a hard time 1. dealing with us at a personal level, and 2. dealing with their own coping problems associated with loving a person with a mental illness.

And those are the lucky ones who’s friends and family care enough to help them. But there’s still a lot of stigma associated with mental illnesses. Even as I write this blog post, I can hear a very scared little voice at the back of my mind telling that I’m insane for talking in public about it. What are they gonna thing about you? it says. People don’t like to be friends with crazy people. Also, people DON'T HIRE crazy people. So won’t you keep it quiet? it’s for your own good, you know.

So, I wish I had cancer. At least there wouldn’t any kind of stigma associated with it. And - like I said to my friend, if I’m lucky enough, cancer would kill me really fast so I wouldn’t have to go on living in so much pain.

The Summer Solstice Girl is a geek

2011-07-27T05:23:00.000-04:00

Well, that's not really news for many of you.

It is also not news that 2011 has not been particularly kind to me. One of the side effects was a forced state of hibernation of my geeky self that almost led to its total annihilation.

But this geeky self is definitely out of hibernation.

Of course, this didn't happen overnight. The defrosting started back in late March and it continued through several late night conversations under a starry sky. Said conversations may or may have not involved copious amounts of wine and/or Jack Daniels helped by a healthy dose of shooting stars.

I was reflecting tonight on how privileged I am to have both the astronomical and the microscopical insight. As an amateur astronomer and a molecular biologist, I have experience with both telescopes and microscopes, galaxies and gene mapping, light-years and microns. That certainly gives you a whole different perspective on life.

That thought was reinforced by this fantastic video, shared earlier today (or rather yesterday, I should say) by the bear. The poetry of science: A conversation between a biologist and an astrophysicist.

THE POETRY OF SCIENCE! Yes, indeed! I've been in love with science since I can remember. Science speaks to me in a very sweet language. Poetry in motion, that's what science is.

You've been warned. Run and take cover, the geek is back.

Now, it's like this, little Britches

2011-06-27T00:37:00.002-04:00

This past Saturday marked my return to Saturday Night Swing. After a long hiatus from Swing Dynamite's dances due to -mainly, my injured ankle, I was back both as the manager for the night and as a DJ in the Vintage room.

I Deejay-ed from 9:30 to midnight at which point Jean Francois Harbour took over the turntables. My ankle felt strong enough and I was feeling rather adventurous so I decided to take a chance at some dancing. I asked my friend and frequent aerials partner Dave Anderson to dance with me. And much to my delight - and to the surprise of the other dancers when they heard me squee, The Bare Necessities started to pour out of the speakers. Dave didn't understand what was going on. I told him my excitement came from the song being played and he asked what was the name of the song and why was it so exciting. Apparently he has never watched The Jungle Book. I let it go. Trying to explain why the movie is so amazing - for starters, and why this old favourite of mine has come to have an added, even more wonderful meaning was too much at the moment. There will be some other time for explanations.

Besides, the song was being played in all its playful goodness. Why waste any time talking when we could be dancing?

And danced we did!

Needless to say, I had the most wonderful time.

As soon as it was over I ran (I know, rather irresponsible of me considering how accident-prone I am) to the DJ booth to thank JF for playing the song. He told me - and this is awesome, that he got it because he saw that Louis Armstrong video I had posted on FB a few weeks back.

The circle was completed.

I only wish the Bear would have been there to witness it. I know he would've got a kick out of it.

The clip from the movie

The clip that prompted JF to buy the song and play it last Saturday

Father's Day Musings

2011-06-19T22:00:00.003-04:00

Father's Day

um.... yeah. I guess it was just a matter of time I wrote something about Father's Day. Or fathers, for that matter. it only makes sense that I do it on Father's Day, I suppose... I didnt' think I could ever write about my father until today.

My father was murdered a long time ago. However, I lost him long before that. I wasn't even 7 years old when it happened. I was awoken in the middle of the night by my mother's screams. Opened my bedroom door only to find a trail of blood along the hallway. My mother's.

After that night, my father was dead to me. The tragedy of it all is that my father actually loved me very much. I was his little girl and I know now he suffered much because I could never love him back. I never hated him but I could never love him either.

Years went by and I eventually went to Med School. There I learned that my father suffered from Delusional Jealousy, a disorder usually associated with Schizophrenia. The fact that he was an alcoholic and a gambler didn't help either. Knowing that helped me cope with it in a way. You see, my father never had a chance to a normal life. Not even a ghost of a chance. And because of that, neither did my mother or my sister or me.

My mother, because she was murdered by him. Me and my sister, because we have to live with that. And my father, well he had to pay dearly for something that wasn't even his fault. Maybe, had he had access to a good health system that would have diagnosed him and offered him treatment and support, just maybe, my mother would be alive and me and my sister would have a family.

As a physician in Colombia, I saw many things, most of them bad and more than a few quite horrible. I have to say that in general, Colombian men don't make good fathers (with some exceptions, of course. Some of my friends had/have good fathers, and most of MY friends turned out to be excellent fathers too).

Here in Canada, I've seen both. I'd like to believe that most fathers here are good. Stories like this one are certainly heartwarming. But then, there are some others that make my heart weep.

Children are precious. They all deserve a great father and a great mother. They all deserve to have a safe environment where they can grow and develop and in time become great parents too should they choose to have children of their own.

If you're a father, try you best to be a good one. Not perfect. Just a good father. And if you need help, for crying out loud, don't hesitate to ask. Your children will thank you (and love you more) for it.

Old Summer Solstice Girl had a garden

2011-06-18T18:00:00.000-04:00

And she misses it greatly. Cause the Summer Solstice Girl HEARTS flowers. All types of flowers. The cultivated ones and the wild ones.

From roses to orchids. From mums to tulips. From carnations to violets. From pansies to irises. Spring flowers. Summer flowers, Fall flowers.

Here a flower, there a flower, everywhere a flower-flower…

But of all the pretty flowers that be, the Summer Solstice Girl's favourite kind of flowers are daisies. All daisies, but particularly Gerbera daisies

aren't they absolutely gorgeous?

Flowers and smiles go together. Incidentally, you can check this other post of mine, if you feel so inclined: Don't want no flowers when I'm dead

Funny Factoid: I just learned (while looking for pictures of daises for this post) that the traditional meaning for the gerbera daisy is beauty and innocence. It made me smile.

The Summer Solstice is almost here

2011-06-14T09:31:00.000-04:00

And I'm very excited about it!

Why, you may ask?

Well, let me tell you. I learned a loooooooong time ago - while reading a Geography textbook belonging to my mother's only sister who was in middle school (I must've been 5 or 6 at the time and yes, I used to read textbooks for fun. I've always been a geek and a nerd, ok?), that the day of my birth was a special day. The longest day of the year. The Summer Solstice, they called it. Sweet, I thought. But then I was left scratching my head. What the hell do they mean with the longest day of the year? Days last exactly the same, don't they? Every single one of them?

You see, where I was born, the sun rises at 6 am every day and sets at 6 pm every day, all year round. Give or take 10 minutes. I was dumbfounded. So I kept reading. And I saw a cool picture that looked pretty much like this one

RASC Calgary Centre - A Complete Guide to
Right Ascension and Declination

And boy, oh boy did I ever get excited! In some countries there were things called seasons! Through the year, days would grow long (or short), peak (ON MY BIRTHDAY) and then grow short (or long) again. Now, THAT'S cool.

And not only that, but it was different in different parts of the world. In fact, it was the complete opposite! it would be Summer in the northern hemisphere (brand new word for me) while Winter in the southern one. And vice versa, exactly six months later. Same for Spring and Fall.

The Summer Solstice. Then the light bulb in my head went on. I was the Summer Solstice Girl!

[mind you, I could have very well been the Winter Solstice Girl, but the book was biased toward the Northern hemisphere and I was only 5 or 6 so give me a break]

But there was more. I also learned that there were places on earth where where daylight is continuous during the spring and summer days. And that there was something called the midnight sun. Now, that's something I have to see, I say to myself. One day, I'll go to one of those places and enjoy the Midnight Sun on my birthday. Then I'll truly know what the Longest Day of the Year really mean.

Fast forward 30 something years. It is now that I live in Canada, that I can finally appreciate the Longest Day of the Year. So, on my birthday, I like to watch the sunset, look at my watch and be amazed at the fact that it is happening at almost 10 pm. Good times!

This year is even more special because it marks the 10th anniversary of the very first time I got to enjoy a real Summer Solstice.

As a side note, that book also had pretty pictures of seasonal landscapes. That's when I stumbled upon that proverbial picture of a Canadian Winter Wonderland. A very serene scene of a cottage, by a lake all covered in snow. It was love at first sight. There and then, at that very moment, I decided one day I WOULD live in that country.

It took me a while but I made it :)

Still haven't seen the Midnight Sun, though. Perhaps next year.... Stay tuned for more Summer Solstice Adventures!

And Happy Summer Solstice to you all :)

My 28-Day Challenge Follow-Up

2011-06-13T01:43:00.000-04:00

Right.

So, the 28 days ended two days ago. However, I have to say I totally blew it. Here's the recap:

My challenge

It all started well. As expected, the push-ups were very difficult and crunches were very easy. However, by the 5th day I could feel my arms getting much stronger and I was actually able to do 10 push-ups in a row! that was a very exciting moment for me.

Then the Canadian Swing Championships came. I didn't go to compete but I was invited to DJ. Plus I was there to cheer for my fellow team members -who did extremely well, by the way.

In case you didn't know, there's this little thing about me. I'm an accident waiting to happen. I fall down. A lot. All the time. And I break easily as well.

Now, add this to the equation

Spiral Staircase - view from upstairs

Spiral Staircase - view from downstairs

Yep, that was my room (oh, didn't I mention the hotel is gorgeous?)

And yep, you guessed correctly. I did fall down that spiral staircase, re-injuring my right ankle.

Now, in theory, that shouldn't have affected my challenge. I could still do crushes and with a little bit of adjusting, I could still do push-ups. Only that I was angry, and sad, and bummed, and a whole lot of other things I'm not gonna mention here. So I didn't. Just took lots of painkillers and was gloomy the whole weekend.

I figured I'd catch up once I got home. Didn't happen.

There! I have no excuse. I blew it.

It looks like another challenge is being issued, starting June 20th. We'll see how it goes with that one

The PHD Movie: Coming To Campuses Everywhere This Fall

2011-06-10T02:35:00.000-04:00

PHD Movie Trailer from PHD Comics on Vimeo.

Oh. Em. Gee

It is no secret that I heart PhD comics (Piled higher and Deeper, a grad student comic strip). Got hooked back in my days of a PhD candidate and I still read them religiously. It's quite the bittersweet experience. One could argue it is even a VERY unhealthy love/hate relationship. While it cracks me up still - mainly because I lived all that and I know very well how true it is, it is also a painful reminder of the life I was forced to leave behind. Kinda like adding salt to a fresh wound.

Bitter-sweetness notwithstanding, I almost fell off the bed when I saw Jorge Cham's link on my Facebook newsfeed!

Squeeeeee

And while I don't know about the casting - Cecilia and Mike don't look at all like their comics counterparts (Professor Smith is spot on, though), I still can't wait to see the movie.

One more reason to look forward to the Fall :)

My 28-Day Challenge

2011-05-17T22:11:00.011-04:00

This past Saturday I saw at tweet about someone doing challenge. Me, being me (challenge, anyone?) well, let's just say I immediately clicked on the link to find out what was it all about.

This is where I was taken: The 28-Day Challenge

Hmmm 100 push-ups every other day & 250 crunches every day for 4 weeks? interesting. This is something I could do - Saturday Me thinks.

Let's rewind a little.

[Rewind]

Most of you know 2011 has been rather unkind to me. First I got into a minor car accident (for the record, I wasn't driving) during a snow storm and got whiplash

OK, maybe I should rewind a little bit more

[Rewindmore]

For those of you new to my blog -and my life, I'm a swing dancer. I social dance but I also compete. Last year I was in four teams, three of which are very demanding, requiring some moderately challenging acrobatics like the knickerbocker pictured below

Photo credit: @relishing

[/Rewindmore]

So, whiplash. In January. With still half of the choreography for the Nationals to learn for both The Rhythm Blasters and the Dynamite Girls. Gaaaaaaah

I said to myself: Myself, you can do this!

Thus, I got some rest, took lots of advil, did a lot of stretching and three weeks later went back to training. On the very first practice after the accident, I was assigned a new partner. Then we're given time to go over the aerials in order to get used to each other. We start by reviewing the knicker and wham! I land badly and sprain my right ankle. 10 weeks off of training again. As a bonus, I'm out of the Nationals as I'll never be able to get strong enough, learn the choreography and the new formations, etc. Beautiful!

[/Rewind]

Now, let's fast-forward to May. I haven't been able to train for four months. And I'm talking about heavy training. I find myself very de-motivated and gaining weight. I haven't had the heart to weight myself (I don't even keep a balance at home) but I know it's bad when pants and skirts are not only tight but not even zipping up anymore. Damn. And it's a vicious cycle. The less physical activity I do, the less I feel like doing any physical activity at all. Since I've been nurturing my ankle back to health I haven't even been social dancing!

And then... ta da! a challenged is issued. 28 days, push-ups, crunches. I can definitely do that!

Except for the fact that I really suck at push-ups. So in order to to stick to the challenge, I create my own program: the goal will be to be able to do 50 push-ups and 250 crunches by the end of the 28 days. Preferably -but not necessarily, in a row.

However, given my upper body weakness I decided to start with 20 push-ups (4 series of 5) and then add more as time goes by. I'm hoping that by the end of the challenge I'll be able to do 5 series of 10.

As for the crunches, I started with 150 (3 series of 50) but very quickly I realized that was easy so I'm doing now 250 (5 series of 50). My goal is to do progress into doing series of 100 (2 series of 100 and 1 of 50, I suppose) and even better, to be able to do the 250 without stopping. We'll see.

SO! that's my challenge. Wish me luck!

Oh, I also took a few pics so I can do one of those before/after thingies.

Here are the before pictures:

Front: Notice how the waist is gone

Side: I miss my flat tummy

Arms: will my inadequate arms rise to the challenge?

And last but not least, a big SHOUT OUT to DJ Waldow for starting the 28-Day Challenge! Rock on!

Poll: Twitter Handle Change

2011-05-11T01:06:00.004-04:00

So, I've been thinking for almost a year about shortening my Twitter handle. The reason? it's a bit too long and it doesn't go well with re-tweets. That's all. I like my name very much but the whole thing just gets in the way when it comes to allowing for RTs when sharing content.

Tonight, I finally got around asking my Tweeps for suggestions.

Needless to say I had a great time. I even found out there's a WB cat named Claude who gets a lot of grief from a dog named Frisky (have I mention how I love my tweeps?).

Unfortunately, the most obvious ones were already taken. I waited too long. Those were:

@ClaudiaPet

@ClaudiaP

@ClaudsP

After many funny suggestions -some of them absolutely hilarious (like Cee3PO for example. Or ChiaPet), I'm down to four options:

@CeePet

@ClaudsPet

@CTrilli

@ClaudiaMP M stands for Magaly, my middle name. I don't have any interest in politics

Please help me choose my new twitter handle by voting on the little poll on the right!

And many thanks to all the tweeps that helped me with suggestions and feedback. You rock!

Live life to the fullest and all that crap

2011-03-31T01:58:00.001-04:00

We all have heard it. It's everywhere. First it was the inspirational books. Then there appeared the countless inspirational websites. Now they've moved on to social networking platforms. Twitter is full of self-appointed gurus, telling the world every day about it. We all have been followed at some point or another by one of them. You know the type, following 22,839 people, each tweet an inspirational phrase. Or even worse, a link. No engagement whatsoever.

I would love to be able to say they're full of crap. Unfortunately, I can't. They are actually right. One should live life to the fullest. The problem is defining what "to the fullest" means.

Some people think that in order to live to the fullest they must be in this permanent adrenalin high. Always in the run, always trying something new -just for the sake of trying, not matter what, just try something new. A cooking course this month, a slam poetry course next month. Scuba diving? shooting elephants in Africa? juggling snakes? sure! just add them to my to do list, I'll squeeze them between Underwater Golf on Thursday and Ostrich Racing on Friday. I'm not even making this up. Check out the Top 30 New Extreme Sports.

Now, don't get me wrong. Learning new things is not only good but advisable. Bucket lists are a good thing too. Specially when you add a date to them. It gives you purpose. It helps you go through life. All these things can bring great joy to your life when done in a reasonable fashion.

But let's rewind for a second. To the fullest. Right! To the fullest can be sitting down not moving. Maybe in a park, listening to the wind blow through the leaves. Or in your living room, after a day's work, listening to your child talk about the new story she read today. Or going for a run, just you, and the pavement. No fears, no annoying co-workers, no insanely demanding boss. Just you and the pavement.

To the fullest can also be calling (or emailing, texting, DMing, Beluga-ing) that friend you haven't seen in months just to touch base. Oh hey, we can even get extreme here. How about telling your loved ones that you love them? imagine that!

I'm no guru. I'm no expert. I'm not wise. I'm just a regular Jane. But I have gone through enough crap to learn a bit about life. So a long time ago, I decided I was gonna live every day like it was the last one. That's why I hug people all the time. That's why I don't mind getting dirty playing with doggies. That's why I go for walks in the rain and jump in as many puddles as I can. That's why I tell people I love them. What if I'm dead tomorrow and they never knew? wouldn't that be sad?

So take the time to find out what "to the fullest" means to you. And then go right ahead and do it!

And then -if you want, drop me a line to let me know how it went.

If Only

2011-03-26T19:09:00.005-04:00

It'd be so nice to tell the world how much I love you

Alas, I know that will never be the case.
silent admiration, words unspoken
or perhaps but whispered in close embrace.

So many things to me forbidden

so many things I'd like to do
those little things that make a difference
those foolish things just meant for you.

To bring you coffee in the morning,
to come back home to you at night.
To hold your hand when out strolling
to make you laugh with pillow fights.

To kiss you goodnight when the day is over

to wake up to your beautiful blue eyes.

To play with your lush golden hair

to share your life - ah, such a prize!

So many feelings in want of being uttered
the world shall never hear
But know in your heart, my darling
that in my heart you'll always be.

The winds of march that made my heart a dancer: These Foolish Things

2011-03-02T01:22:00.000-05:00

While going through my Jazz & Blues collection I came across this little jewel. Oh, Wonderful Billie Holiday! What a gift to the world she was.

But the song! the song itself is probably one of the most beautiful love songs ever written.

Miss Billie's version goes like this:

A cigarette that bares a lipstick’s traces
An airline ticket to romantic places
And still my heart has wings
These foolish things remind me of you.
A tinkling piano in the next apartment
Those stumblin’words that told you what my heart meant
A fairground’s painted swings
These foolish things
Remind me of you.
You came,
You saw,
You conquered me
When you did that to me
I knew somehow this had to be
The winds of march that made my heart a dancer
A telephone that rings but who’s to answer
Oh, how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things
Remind me of you

And here it ends. However, later renditions (by great singers like Ella Fitzgerald, Nat King Cole & Bing Crosby to name a few) continue like this:

First daffodils
And long excited cables
And candle lights
A little corner table
And still my heart has wings
These foolish things remind me of you
The park at evening
When the bell has sounded
The pier in france
With all the gulls around it
The beauty that is spring
These foolish things
Remind me of you
How strange,
How sweet,
To find you still,
These things are dear to me
They seem to bring you near to me
The sigh of midnight trains
At empty stations
Silk stockings thrown aside
Dance invitations
Oh how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things
Remind me of you
Gardenia perfume
Lingering on a pillow
Wild strawberries
Only seven francs a kilo
And still my heart has wings,
These foolish things,
Remind me of you
The smile of garbo
And the scent of roses
The waiters whistling
As the last bar closes
The song that crosby sings
These foolish things
Remind me of you
How strange
How sweet
To find you still
These things are dear to me
They seem to bring you near to me
The scent of smoldering leaves
The wail of steamers
Two lovers on the street
Who walk like dreamers
Oh how the ghost of you clings
These foolish things
Remind me of you.

According to Wikipedia, Bring Crosby omits the line "The song that crosby sings" in his 1955 recording, for obvious reasons, I suppose. Nonetheless, the line is kept for his duet with Frances Langford.

Regardless, this song is a true gem. Enjoy!

Disclaimer

2011-02-14T18:13:00.002-05:00

OK, let me start by saying that I’m really happy for all my friends that are in love and are loved back at this moment in life. I am truly happy for all my friends that are in a happy, healthy, loving relationship today. Good for them. Seriously. Very happy for all my friends that are just starting a relationship as well. Butterflies in the stomach are a wonderful thing. And just in time for Valentine’s! isn’t that wonderful?

But! I’m single. And while I KNOW I’m loved by many people, friends and family alike (and I love them back too) I don’t have a f*cking boyfriend. Haven’t had a f*cking boyfriend in years. So, I’m f*cking sick and tired of all those lovey-dovey tweets and FB posts about Valentine’s day. And I’m even more f*cking sick and tired of friends wishing ME a happy Valentine’s day. Like, WTF?

Yes, I know you mean well. I know you love me. I know you want all the best for me. But you’re only making it worse! sorry but that’s the truth.

Yes, I know I’m being a sour person. Yes, were I in love with a guy who loved me back, I’d be one of those people tweeting today about how wonderful life is. Yes, I am well aware that makes me a hypocritical bitch. Contradictory? well, that’s part of the human condition. And after all, I’m only human.

So, there!

Feel free to carry on with your lovey-dovey messages. I’ll just stay away from Twitter and Facebook today.

See you tomorrow -unless I feel I have to rant a bit more today

So here I am, broken - again!

2011-02-11T16:20:00.002-05:00

As luck would have it, I’m missing out a dance event - yet again!

I have to stay behind in Ottawa while my fellow team members go to Toronto for the Toronto International Swing Dance Championships. I would be a big lier if I told I’m not bummed.

But! on the other hand, I’ll get to spend some time with a few visitors from Quebec City and Montreal, not to mention my friends from Ottawa, whom I haven’t seen much lately due to so much traveling. Not a bad deal when you think about it! :)

Suddenly being in pain (stupid whiplash) doesn’t seem so bad.

Yay for old and new friends! I’ll have a beer in your honour today.

So, to those of you competing in Toronto this weekend, break a leg! to those of you in Ottawa, ping me so we can get together :)

Solitude. A poem in the making.

2011-02-03T01:12:00.002-05:00

Where does one go when loneliness besieges?

Where does one hide when solitude is so pervasive it seems to impregnate every atom of one's being?

The fortress of my mind has been under siege for too long.

Two Sleepy People

2011-02-02T02:19:00.002-05:00

I've been in love with this song for a while. I was first introduced to it by Toronto-based Terra Hazelton who did a wonderful rendition of it for her latest album, Give me what you got.

The song has been a staple in my iPod but tonight DJ Byron Alley played a version of if that I had never heard. I asked him about it and he told me it was by Fats Waller. Naturally, I youtubed it as soon as I got home and found (not surprisingly) many versions of it. Ironically, the one I like the least was the one by Hoagy Charmichael who actually wrote the music.

However, I also found this little jewel, which is rapidly becoming my favourite rendition of this beautiful song.

Enjoy!

I, the one who loves you

2010-12-03T20:18:00.003-05:00

What am I, you ask?

I'm your friend, I'm your lover
I'm your partner in crime.

I'm your fairy tale princess,
I'm your hardheaded gal.

I'm your private dancer,

I'm your biggest fan.

The one who'll laugh with you
or cry, when adversity strikes.

A fellow hiker on a golden Autumn day
or a swimmer under the moonlight of a warn summer night.

An avid debater should the occasion arise

or just a quiet companion in the evening, by the fire.

I'm the one who"ll walk by your side

hand in hand, no matter what.

The one who reinvents herself

through the years,

when things go wrong, when things go right.

Close or far away,
no distance can change that.
All of this, that's what I am.

But in the end, know that it is just
I, the one who loves you
now and ever, till the end of time

Movember Musings

2010-11-29T18:47:00.004-05:00

Hopefully you all will know by now this year I decided to join Movember.

As a result, this month has been quite the journey. And a very happy one.

First of all, doing something for others makes me happy. Second, it was a LOT of fun. I got to be creative, come up with fun ideas to engage people and to attend even more parties. After all, I'm a social butterfly! ;) Or as a dear friend of mine once said, a true renaissance social butterfly.

One of the things I enjoyed the most was my Mo Tour. I decided to wear a moustache for a full day and - for a $10 donation, have a picture of me taken at the place of their choice in Ottawa and then post it on FB and Twitter.

A good friend of mine offered to drive me around and take the pictures just because he's awesome that way. He picked me up around noon and off we went. We started the tour at the Hintonburger, a burger shack in Hintonburg and we ended it at Bar 56 in the market. I collected almost $100 in donations.

The best part? I also collected a lot of smiles that day. What made it even better was that most people already knew about Movember. They would see me and immediately point at me, smile and say: Movember?

So, fellow Digital Challenge team members and all Mo Bros and Mo Sistas, WE'VE DONE A GOOD JOB!

And those who didn't know what Movember was at that point now do. And how!

I had the chance to talk to a lot of people, hear their stories (virtually everybody knows someone who has being diagnosed with Prostate Cancer and even died because of it), share a few laughs, make new friends.

I decided stop for lunch at Little Italy. Went to my favourite spot, Pasticeria Gelateria Italiana and while I was ordering at the cash, the girl starts laughing and she yells "hey Bobby, you have to come and see this" so as it turns out, this Bobby - one of the cooks, is a Mo bro as well! needless to say I got a picture of the two of us :)

Sitting at one of the tables was Paula Ibbotson. She was intrigued by the stache and came to ask what it was. She had never heard of Movember so I explained the whole thing to her and she offered to donate $10 if I would be willing to help her with her cause. She was auctioning her wedding dress and it was on display on the second floor, where the wedding cakes are. So upstairs we went and got our pic taken

It was a great day. I got home quite tired but very happy. I had tons of fun doing it. Will I do it again next year? ABSOLUTELY

And it's now quite over yet. If you haven't had a chance to donate, despair not! reach out to your closest Mo Bro or Mo Sista and show them how much you appreciate their efforts. Or donate to me! [insert angelic smile here]

Claudia's mospace

Remember, one in six male Canadians will get diagnosed with Prostate Cancer. That's a scary statistic. And that's why we do it. Because we love the men in our lives!

See you again next year

The Summer Solstice Girl sometimes likes to write poetry

2010-11-09T17:49:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I get the poet bug. I've written a few poems in English that I never show anyone. This one I wrote last Spring, I believe. I have no idea why I'm sharing it now but here it is anyway. Hope you like it. It's quite silly.

In the still of the night

Want to sleep but can't.

Want to close my eyes and dream.

In the still of the night I wonder...

Is he the one for me?

How many nights I've longed

for a kiss, a sweet embrace.

Deep breathing, soft caresses,

the warmth of a loving face.

Awake at night I hunger

dawn comes and there's no relief.

In the still of the night I wonder...

will he come to me?

Alone during the day I walk

alone and lonely still

fluttering hearts desire

touching fingertips

In the still of the night I wonder...

Is there a man for me?

Or alone on this earth forever shall I be.....

I'm a potato

2010-11-05T01:43:00.000-04:00

A very heartwarming conversation with one of my dearest tweeps, Gary Champagne prompted me to write this post.

Years and years ago when I was still a teenager, I read this little article on a reader's digest magazine. It made such an impression on me I still remember it very clearly. It was about a woman talking about the way she prayed and how funny her prayer must sound to god. She always prayed for god to make her a potato. Yeah, that sounds weird all right, I though as I was reading. Then she proceeded to explain that once she had been told that some people are like eggs and some other people are like potatoes.

You see, when you boil an egg, it becomes hard. So, following the analogy, some people, when faced with problems or disappointments become disillusioned. Life's hardships are the equivalent of the boiling process. Thus, that kind of people become hard, cold. They lose hope and they don't (or can't) trust anyone or anything. Some of them can't even love. They become hard-boiled eggs.

Potatoes -on the other hand, become soft when boiled. Likewise, when faced with pain, loss and other beauties, some people come out of it soft, still malleable. In other words, they are capable of great love, great empathy for other people's pain, etc, etc, etc. You get the drill.

Thus, this woman wanted to be a potato. And so she prayed to her god. She didn't want to ever be so jaded, so callous, she'd be insensitive not only to other people's pain and suffering but also to all the beauty in the world.

And not being able to appreciate the beauty of the world is one of man's greatest tragedies.

I'm a potato. I don't understand how that's possible given the circumstances of my life but I am. I didn't chose to be a potato either and I certainly didn't pray for it but I'm most happy I came out that way after being boiled over and over again.

I'm a potato and I'm grateful for it. Just as I'm grateful for my wonderful friends (tweeps and otherwise), for my family, for my cat, for having a roof over my head and food in my belly. For being able to live in Canada and last but not least, for Twitter! :)

So there!

A new milestone in my Canadiana

2010-10-24T14:58:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I was inducted into a great Canadian tradition: Road Hockey!

It all started with a few tweets by Joe Boughner and soon it became the Ottawa First Road Hockey Showdown After a failure to get a team together, I ended up joining Randy Little's Senaleafs. Next step: get a hold of a hockey stick, which I ended up borrowing from a friend.

I got up Saturday morning - all excited, and got dressed. On my way there, I was feeling decidedly Canadian wearing my Senators jersey and carrying a hockey stick, pigtails and all.

I arrived to the Ottawa Goodtime Centre and was welcomed by the delicious smell of the Hintonburger's burgers and hot dogs on the BBQ. Om nom nom. As the good Canadian I am, I immediately proceeded to gulp down two yummy burgers and managed to get all the condiments on my jacket and my hockey stick (any tips on how to get condiments off a ski jacket are most welcome).

Then it was time to sign the waivers and get on with the tournament. The first game started and right away the anxiety downed on me. Good lord, what did I get myself into? I went to my team mates and asked them to show me how to hold the hockey stick. This doesn't bode well, they said, with a smile. I smiled nervously back at them. I should also note that I'm left handed and I had a right handed stick. Oh well, I thought. It's all for charity, anyway.

Then it was our time to play. Butterflies in my stomach! a few minutes into the first half I found myself thinking: hey! this is A LOT of fun! playing with a right handed stick felt a bit weird at first but soon I got the hang of it. However, we were facing a good team and we were being cremated at first. We got it together for the second half but still lost. It was exhilarating nonetheless!

Then we had to play our second game right away. Thank goodness, Randy had arrived by that time, and with his help and the fact that now we had a bench and we were able to take breaks, we managed to win. Someone from the crowd lent me a left handed stick which also made it much easier for me. A little bit of adjustment cause at that point I was already used to the right handed stick but after a few minutes I was back in track... to not doing much, of course.

But guess what? With the goal difference, we also got in the final! Go Senaleafs Go!

On the other hand, that also meant playing a third game. At this point my back (recently injured while doing swing acrobatics) was complaining loudly. I decided to ignore it. Heck, it was THE FINAL of my first road hockey experience ever! who cares about a sissy back? Shut up - I said, and proudly walked with my team mates for the puck drop.

In the end we lost the game in spite of the valiant efforts of my team members and the awesome performance of our new goalie, Littler Little. But! we won so many things: Lots of smiles and new frienships. The great feeling of doing a good deed. The joy of being out on a beautiful (if only slightly on the cool side) Fall afternoon.

I love living in Canada. I'm proud of being Canadian and I'm very honoured to now be part of one of the greatest Great White North traditions: Road Hockey! next step, Ice Hockey... maybe.

Many thanks to Joe and Amy Boughner for putting this event together. Many thanks to all the sponsors -for a complete list, please see the Showdown site, the kind people that donated the yummy baked goods, all the players and also their families that came to cheers for us. And special thanks to my team mates who were so kind and supportive to me. Great team job!

We managed to raise $1475 for the Ottawa Food Bank, plus two big boxes full of food and I've been told they can turn every dollar into $5. YAY!

Here's the latest post on the event: We did a good thing today

And non-twitter people still ask me why I like Twitter so much. Thank you my tweeps. You rock!

PS:

Senaleaf line up

Randy @littlerandy

Jody @JodyLavoie

Jason @chefjayl

Spencer @Senturion

Littler Little Not on Twitter... yet ;)

And me!

Don't want no flowers when I'm dead

2010-08-27T22:46:00.002-04:00

There's this Spanish song called "Donde Brilla el Sol" (Where the Sun Shines). It was a favourite of my mother's. She used to sing it all the time. It goes like this:

No quiero flores cuando muera

Las quiero ahora en mi jardín

No quiero amores con cualquiera

Cualquiera no me hace feliz

Como el girasol busco mi lugar

Donde brilla el sol

Tengo el corazón a disposición

Para un gran amor

Siempre digo si

La palabra no, nunca me gustó

Como el ave soy canto mi canción

Sin una razón

No quiero herencias venideras

Ni un gran futuro por vivir

Quiero sentir la primavera

Que no se queda mucho aqui

Here's my translation:

I don't want flowers when I die

I want them now in my garden

I don't want to love just anyone

Just about anyone doesn't make me happy

Like the sunflower, I look for my place

where the sun shines

My heart is available

for a great love

I always say yes

I never liked the word no

I'm like a bird singing my song

for no reason

I'm not waiting for an inheritance to come

nor I long for a grand future

I just wanna feel the spring

since it doesn't stay very long

My mother used to tell me all the time that she didn't want flowers at her funeral -or her grave, for that matter. She would say to me: "I want them now, when I can enjoy their pretty colours and their sweet scent".

As it happens, I'm very much like my mother. I also don't want flowers when I die. I want them now in my garden. I wanna enjoy them now, when I can. And that goes for all the other stuff too. Natalia and I were watching an episode of Two and a Half Men today. The one were Charlie's best friend dies while drinking and smoking cigars at Charlie's place. Then Charlie starts thinking he's gonna die as well because he leads the same kind of unhealthy life his pal did. He tries to make amends and starts buying people gifts. While at his mother's place he mentions he needs to go arrange the funeral. The mother tells him not to be cheap and get his pal an expensive coffin. Sure, it's intended to be a joke. But sadly, more people than you'd think, believe that if you love someone, you have to spend a lot of money on a casket and a fancy funeral. I also think it is disgusting that funerals have become so expensive. Why does a grieving family has to also be burdened with such a financial blow? Why thousands of dollars must be spent so their loved ones can be buried?

I say, the hell with that. What"s the point? I'm dead. I'm not gonna enjoy anything you buy me. In fact, I want the cheapest casket possible. That's why I want to be cremated as well. That way there won't be a grave people would be tempted to bring flowers to. That money can go towards providing food and education for a third world child. Or to support your local animal shelter. Or plant a bunch of trees.

So, I want my flowers now.

And it's not just me. Everybody deserves flowers when they're alive. FYI, that doesn't mean you have to run to the nearest flower store and buy the most expensive bouquet you can find. It's not about money. It's about letting people know that we care about them.

That's why I don't want people saying how much they loved me, or how much they miss me when I'm gone either. Tell me now that I am alive, when I can actually hear it, when I can tell you that I love you back. It'll make me happy and it'll make YOU happy. Nothing more rewarding than telling your loved ones that you love them. Just go tell them and rejoice in their smiles.

Also tell them now much you appreciate they being in your live and all the little things they do for you. Those are the flowers that will brighten anyone's day.

And every now and then, for no reason, buy them some flowers too! :)

Of Beavers and Canadiana

2010-08-19T20:02:00.001-04:00

There's an ongoing joke on Twitter right now about Beaver vs Bieber. That reminded me of a note I wrote on FB a long time ago (can't believe it's been three years). But before that perhaps I should give you a bit of a background.

@BailaConNatalia designed a very cute Beaver logo for the Ottawa Swing Dance Society. At that point I was an executive member of said society. Unfortunately, I can't find a picture of it at this moment. That logo was used on the website, the Flickr site and the t-Shirts.

Soon enough, some people voiced their disagreement with the logo adducing it was very inappropriate. Some emails made my jaw go to the floor! A guy even say that it was very unlady-like of me to promote the Society with a beaver. It is really too bad I can't find a photo. It was cuteness overload.

Anyway, this is what I wrote in response:

Of Beavers and Canadiana

by Claudia Petrilli on Wednesday, September 19, 2007 at 7:48pm

OK, I am an immigrant. I followed the normal immigration proccess. I first became a permanent resident (formerly known as Landed Immigrant) and then I became a Citizen. A Citizen of Canada!!!! One of the few things in my life -beside my children, of which I am very proud.

In order to become a citizen, I had to pass the the Citizenship test. So, I was given a book I had to study. I learned some things and I refreshed some othesr that I had learned just by living here.

I learned about the confederation, the Canadian Flag, and other Canadian symbol such as the Beaver.

Cute little furry creatures, beavers are. I find them amazing.

Wikipedia defines Beavers as semi-aquatic rodents native to North America and Europe. The beaver works as a keystone species in an ecosystem by creating wetlands that are used by many other species. Next to humans, no other animal does more to shape its landscape.

So, yadda, yadda, Beaver is a Canadian icon, featured in our currency, the nickel! or 5 cent coin.

I've seen tons of cute beavers featured in several government documents. The beaver is the first symbol in the symbol page of the Canadian Heritage website
So, it really blows my mind that some people have such a dirty mind as to think that a beaver logo has sexual connotation.

Sure I understand that sometimes the word beaver can be used to denote certain part of the female anatomy. Though luck.

You would think that people in their 30's and 40's would be mature enough to understand that context is everything?

You know the saying "beauty is in the eyes of the beholder? well I think that dirtyness is in the eyes of the beholder.

How could any one possible think that this little cute beaver is obscene or has a sexual connotation? pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!

There you go, my thought for the week!

On being Canadian

2010-08-18T00:07:00.002-04:00

Almost nine years have passed since I came here with just two suitcases containing all my earthly possessions.

Then I quickly bought myself a copy of How to Be a Canadian (Even if You Already Are One) Excellent book. I highly recommend it. I even talked about in one of my earlier posts. It has taught me a lot about being Canadian, eh?

I have learned how to quickly say "I'm sorry" even if it is not my fault. I have learned to take my shoes off at the door (my American swingdancers friends don't get this). I have learned to dress in layers. I have learned to love the seasons -as I knew I would, summer BBQs and hockey. I have learn that most Canadians have a big porcupine index... Sorry, what's that? oh, you don't know what the porcupine index is? let me tell you:

You know porcupines, right? funny chubby rodents with quills or spines which they use for protection. To keep predators away. You wouldn't want to hug a porcupine but most important of all, the porcupine doesn't want you to hug him. So a professor of mine used to joke in class about how people have different porcupine indexes. Some people have a high index so if you get too close, they become uncomfortable and they bristle. Some people have a low index and are more comfortable with letting other people get close to them. As in hugging and stuff.

And yes, I know that here they call it personal space. I think porcupine index is funnier.

So, where was I? ah yes, Canadians and their high porcupine indexes. Except for Swing Dancers. Swing Dancers belong to a completely different species. They do like to hug and stuff. I guess that's why I feel so comfortable among Swing Dancers!

Every now and then I forget and I hug a person I just met. In the millisecond before my arms touch them, I can feel them bristling and I go "ah, crap" but the momentum carries me and there's nothing I can do but try the Man Hug

But I digress. I moved here on September 3, 2001. I've had good times, bad times, hysterical times. I've met a lot of wonderful people. Since, I've learned how to shovel snow, how to get a fire going on a fireplace, how to keep warm. I've learn to ski and to skate. I've learned to love Hockey, maple syrup, shepherd's pie and meatloaf. I've also learned that in order to survive an Ottawa summer one needs A/C. There's no other way around. Holy heat, Batman, does it ever get hot in here. I've also learned that if you're renting, hydro better be included in the rent cause otherwise your paycheck is gonna go straight to the pay the hydro bill in the winter.

I've also learned that Canadians are very polite people but that doesn't necessarily mean they like you. Some of them are just being that, polite. I've learned that most Canadians are obsessed with being politically correct (subject for another post). I've learned good English and bad English -It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing ;)

Furthermore, I've been the proud owner of a Citizenship Card since December 2006.

I've learned so many things in these almost 9 years I've been in Canada.

But what the most important thing I have learned is that if there is a place on earth where I can be happy it is right here, in the Great White North!

There'll be days like this

2010-08-16T13:52:00.000-04:00

When did this blog turn so sad?

When I started it a few months ago, I had a different idea. It was supposed to be a happy blog. About the things I like, the things I enjoy doing. Like swing dancing, for example. About my life in Canada -which I love!

Why do I feel compelled to write about all these awful things? why can't they stay 6 feet under? I guess that as much as I have tried to bury them, they refuse to be forgotten. They're like Zombies!

Very well. I shall continue writing about them. Perhaps if I do, one day they will get tired of haunting me and they will leave me alone.

I started thinking about death right after my mother died. Ok, one may argue that it was way before that I guess but it didn't become a conscious thing until then. And I don't mean death in general, I mean my own death.

I lost all my desire to live -which was never very big to start with, right after that nefarious October in 1983.

Funny thing, I have always been perceived as a happy person. Even as a child. Just a couple of weeks before my mother died, one of the nuns commented on what a happy girl I was and what a happy family I had. I just smiled. I'll never forget how I felt inside when she said that. I wanted to scream "if you only knew" I wanted to scream "please help me". I couldn't. I didn't say anything. I just smiled. I had carried my burden, my shame in silence for so many years. And I continued to do so until now. I changed schools. I distanced myself from most of my friends and made new ones. Friends that didn't know anything about my past. Till this very day, nobody in my family talks about those things. My mother is very rarely mentioned. My father even less.

But I also continued to smile. Go figure. It's never been a fake smile.... ok, almost never. Most of the time my smile is genuine. I truly enjoy a lot of things. I am two persons in one. The happy, cheerful girl that loves to dance and do sports and many other things. And the sad, lost little girl who wants to find her way home. Very lonely and scared. The little girl that doesn't know how to take care of herself. The little girl that doesn't understand why mommy and daddy are not around.

And that kills me. Sometimes - like now, the pain is unbearable. The loneliness, the fear. Those days I feel I can't keep on going. Those days I think even more about death. Those days I resent the doctors that kept me alive when I was born a premature baby. Those days I beg Death to come get me. Those days I hope for some miracle that would put me out of my misery.

The tragedy is that I am a happy person by nature. Or I would be, were it not for the special circumstances of my life....

Well, my mama didn't need to tell me there'll be days like this. I found out all by myself when I was still a child.

#ReasonsForAShrink 2

2010-08-15T17:04:00.004-04:00

Funny how people - specially children, tend to carry other people's burdens on their shoulders. We get loaded with them without asking for it.

For years and years I carried the shame of what my father had done. I thought people would stay away from me if they knew, I guess. These things are not really a conscious thought. They stay underneath like underground waters. You are not aware they're there but they run deep, carving the rock -or your brain, and the longer you let them be, the bigger the hole. Soon they become rivers and they create underground caverns. Very breath-taking when they occur in nature but not so much when it happens in your psyche.

Of course I wasn't aware of this. I even went through med school and learn about it in class (I had to take psychobiology, psychopathology and psychiatry). I pitied those poor children and adults I had as patients. I felt for them and even cried for them without realizing I was just the same.

7 years of therapy here in Canada led to my previous post where I finally was able to talk (or in this case, write) about my burden.

After another night of horrible nightmares, I just realized I still carry another one: I feel responsible for my mother's death. I FAILED to protect her. I FAILED to keep her safe like I said I would that pivotal day when I packed our stuff and took her and my little sister -who is 6 years my junior, to grandma's house.

I wasn't there the day she died . I could've (and in my mind, I should've) taken that bullet for her. See, I told her everything would be all right and I lied. She ended up being murdered :(

I've been haunted by it ever since. Sometimes I think I should have let her go back to my father. There is a lot more to it of course, but that's what I sometimes think. Maybe she would still be alive if that would've been the case. Other times I think it was better that way. That at least she finally stopped suffering and that she went to a much better place where she can be happy. Where she's not in pain anymore. Having your nose broken every now and then cannot be fun.

I don't know. I don't have any answers.

#ReasonsForAShrink

2010-08-12T04:05:00.001-04:00

So, the day before yesterday a couple of friends of mine (tweeps as well) were jokingly trying to outdo each other on reasons why they were apparently so "screwed up". They hashtagged it #ReasonsForAShrink. The usual "parents divorcing when I was very young" was mentioned.

That made me think -again, of some of the thoughts that never or very rarely leave my mind and that only my shrink has ever heard. Things I SO wish I could forget. But alas! I cannot. I've been haunted by those memories all my life. I have terrible nightmares. Very often I wake up in the middle of the night screaming and all covered in sweat.

It seems like I can't keep them inside anymore. I feel compelled to write them down. Why now? why after so many years? I don't know. But write them I must, as it seems.

How about THESE #ReasonsForAShrink?

How about your father being murdered (shot in the head) when you were 25?

How about your mother being murdered (shot in the head) BY YOUR FATHER when you were 15?

How about being rudely awoken by screams and the sound of breaking things only to find out that your mother had to flee your home -leaving a blood trail behind, when you were 6?

How about seeing your mother in a hospital bed with a broken nose and multiple bruises, hardly recognizable, and knowing it was your father who did that? and not just once but several times?

How about growing up with an abusive father who was an alcoholic and a chronic gambler?

My mother had a funny scar in the chest. I asked her once how she got it and she avoided the question. After she was dead and I was living with my grandmother, I found a newspaper clipping about a domestic dispute where the wife got stabbed in the chest by the husband. Guess who they were.... I was two at the time. I have no recollection of this.

Why did my mother stay, was beyond me for many years. I never understood. In fact, I even thought of her as a weak individual. Only many years after she was gone I understood that she stayed and suffered such abuse because she loved me and she knew that if she left she would never see me again. She knew that if she left, she would probably have to leave the country and change her name cause otherwise my father would find her just like he eventually did. And I can only imagine it got worse when my sister was born. Now she had not only one but two girls to take care of.

A few months after I turned 15, my father went into another of his -very frequent, tantrums and started to hit my mother again. For the first time ever, I ran to where they were and stood between him and my mother. While trying to reach her, he hit me. I think that that was what made him stop. He never laid a hand on me or my sister. All his rage was directed against my mother. He didn't know what to do and he left.

That day I said to my mother "that's it, we're leaving". I packed our things, grabbed my badly injured mother (another broken nose), my little sister and called a cab. Took them to grandma's and then we took mom to the hospital. I said to my mother I would get a job and ask for a scholarship -at that point I was attending a very exclusive and very expensive private catholic school. I was first in my class so I figured the nuns would help me out. I told her she didn't need to worry about anything

Of course my father tried to win her back as he always did. He sent flowers, he serenaded her, he called on the phone. I forbade my mother to talk to him.

One day -while I was at the library doing homework, my father forced his way into grandma's house, and in front of my little sister, shot my mother several times and then ran away. When I got home, my mother was in the hospital and all that was left was a big pool of blood my aunt in law was trying to wash away.

I didn't even cry. I couldn't cry. I cried all my tears when I was 6 while looking at my mother's blood on our hallway floor. Haven't been able to cry much ever since. In my mind both my mother and father died that day. My father - for obvious reasons, I couldn't love anymore. He wasn't my father anymore. He was dead to me. And my mother, well, that's harder to explain. She was still a loving mother, and boy, did she ever love us. She came back from the hospital and still cared for me and my sister and continued to endure her hard life with my father. But I couldn't afford to love her, I guess. It was too painful. My brain could deal better with a dead mother that one can miss and remember but not with a living mother who was constantly being used as a punch bag by a drunk, psychotic father.

Funny thing is that I couldn't hate my father either. I became sort of dead inside when it came to him. Years later, in my Med school years I actually understood that he was mentally ill. And then I felt pity for him. The good kind of pity. That kind of pity Gandalf refers to when he's explaining to Frodo that is was pity what stopped Bilbo's hand from killing Gollum.

You see, my father was a tortured man. He had a daughter he adored but she could never love him back. He knew he had done wrong and he had to live with it. Every time he looked at me and my sister, he knew we were motherless because of him. How could I hate a poor soul like him? he wanted my love badly and I could never give it to him. I was never able to tell him I forgave him. I was on speaking terms with him - in case you were wondering, but I could never hug him or show him any kind of affection.

I didn't cry when he died either. I felt it was a good thing. Not because I didn't think he deserved to live. Far from that. It was because I thought that finally he could rest. That he had gone to a better place where he could make amends and be happy.

I also thought I was finally getting closure and that I could move on and be happy again, like I had been before that tragic night when I was 6. That a dark chapter of my life was coming to an end and I would be free to live and love and even cry if I wanted to. Not quite. Some scars remain forever.

I can rationalize all I want. I'm a master of rationalizing. I can even sublimate. I'm also a master of sublimation (I'm talking about the defense mechanism here, not the phase transition)* but in the end, a big part of me is still that little girl, all scared and confused who was left an orphan one terrible night in a god-forsaken country.

And as I write all this, I still can't cry. I feel broken inside but no tears will come to my eyes.

*yeah, that was a bad attempt at making a geeky joke :P

A very Un-Martha kind of girl

2010-08-11T01:33:00.006-04:00

Some times after seeing my tweep's tweets or reading their blogs I feel mighty useless. I don't cook, I don't bake. Particularly, I don't bake pretty cupcakes, which seems to be all the rage these days. I don't sew. I can't paint, or draw. I'm not funny - couldn't tell a joke even if my life depended on it. It is pretty sad, actually.

In the old days of online forums (god, has it even been that long? it seems like ages ago) there was this Canadian Swing dance forum called LindyHopper.ca. I think it still exists but it is ghost town there. Hmm, fancy that, people still post about events there, just checked.

Anyway, it has a Ladies' lounge among other things. There is a thread there called "what are you making? crafty chat" where all the women would post pictures about this fabulous scarf, or hat, or whatever they'd knit. Or the things they'd sew or bake or whatever. In time they got married and had kids and started posting pics about diaper bags with matching change mats and other crazy stuff. Someone even knitted a DNA scarf (granted, if I knitted, that would be the kind of stuff I'd make)

Thank god someone - a very kind soul, obviously, finally started a thread she called "the Un-Martha Thread. For those of us who have problems using a glue-stick!!"

This is a post of mine from 30 Aug 2006, 12:31 PM

Oh good god, finally.... I thought I was the only one with those kind of *ahem* problems.... and of course, going to an all-girl catholic school with ultra conservative Nuns (you know, the kind that think the only education a girl needs is how to be a good wife and mother... (yeah, yeah, it was in Colombia) didn't help...

glue sticks and I just don't get along...

Baking: those who have seen me lately, know what i'm talking about: beware girls, Ovens are evil, I have the marks on my arms to prove it!!!!! they will attack when you least expect it

One can still see the marks on my forearms made by the evil oven!

A later entry on that thread:

QUOTE(----- @ 5 Sep 2006, 11:00 AM)
Some part of me would like to learn to sew, but I have had other things I'd rather spend my time on.

Ditto!!!!

Sometimes I think I should get myself a sewing machine and take some time to re-learn those skills. My Grandfather was a tailor and my Grandmother -although a cook by profession, was a pretty decent seamstress, not to mention her great skills in knitting, doing crochet and embroidery.

But then again, I hear so many books calling my name, wanting to be read. And the trails summon me, and my walking stick and hiking boots are there by the door ready, waiting for me.... nah, with so many interesting people to talk to, so many exciting places to visit and so many books to learn from, who wants to spend time sewing and cooking and the likes?

So there! words to live by, I tell you (I can be pretty deep sometimes, who would've thunk?). While I'll still admire what crafty people can do - and eat all their pretty cupcakes too, I think I am quite happy with the talents I got.

Plus who can say they know how to design their own DNA sequence, make it into a plasmid and then introduce it into a host Bacterial DNA? I think that's pretty kick-ass.

Or being thrown up in the air by their partner and land perfectly on their two feet and keep dancing like there is no tomorrow. That's pretty kick-ass too!

Suddenly it is not so bad to be so un-Martha ;)

What makes the Summer Solstice Girl sad

2010-08-06T00:30:00.000-04:00

Children dying of preventable diseases (like of lack of potable water or starvation, for example).

War, hunger, torture, inequality of any kind. Violence, specially against women and children. A child that has lost her parents because an absurd war. A child that is not loved because of her gender.

Mistreated animals (what is wrong with people?)

Not being able to help a friend.

Polluted rivers, lakes and oceans.

People killing other people in the name of God.

Animals disappearing from the face of the earth because of man's greed and obtuseness.

Stepping on an earth worm that has been washed out of the lawn by heavy rain.

Caged animals (again, what is wrong with people?). Incidentally, my mother used to keep birds in cages. Very beautiful there were and they also used to sing and chatter all day. But that didn't make me happy. On the contrary, all their beautiful songs sounded very sad to me. It seemed to me they sang about their desire to fly to the sky. About their lost freedom. I used to sneak out at night an open the cage door so they could fly away. I was around 6 or 7. After that she just gave up on the idea. Never had a caged bird again. My poor mother :P

This article made me cry today. South African reserve’s last rhino butchered for her horn They cut off her horn and let her bleed to death. LET HER BLEED TO DEATH. I wonder how would they feel if someone cut their penises off and let them bleed to death... not that I'd condone such an act but it just makes me wonder. A very sad Summer Solstice Girl here :(

What makes the Summer Solstice Girl happy

2010-08-05T03:06:00.003-04:00

A smile, a hug, a good conversation. A squirrel pausing to evaluate if I pose a danger to her and then continuing to look for food for the fast approaching winter. A chipmunk eating peanuts from my hand at the Arboretum park.

Flowers, rain, thunderstorms, birds chirping away outside my window.

Family and Friends. Seeing a friend being happy. Being able to help a friend in need.

Chocolate. Chocolate fondue, chocolate chips, chocolate cookies, chocolate cake, chocolate cupcakes, chocolate icing, hot chocolate, iced chocolate, chocolate bars, chocolate fountains. Chocolate-covered strawberries. Hell, chocolate-covered anything. Well, not really... chocolate-covered broccoli wouldn't make me happy.

Dancing, being airborne (a.k.a. aerials), competing, performing.

My cat, so soft and warm cuddling with me while I type. My cat, playing hide and seek with me. My cat going on walks with me. My cat. Period.

The sound of running water. Rivers, creeks, falls, a backyard pond, a fountain. Water in the form of lakes, ponds, inlets. The sound of the waves splashing on the shore.

Music, music and more music. From Bach, Mozart and Beethoven to Liszt, Rimsky-Korsakov and Ravel. From Joplin, Bechet and Armstrong to Gershwin and Bernstein. Classic music, Celtic music, Klezmer Music, African music, Latin music, Jazz, Blues, Black Gospel, Soul.

Bunny wabbits and groundhogs. Horses. Fall colour explosions, snow. Making snow angels.

A nice cup of tea and a book. A good movie shared with good friends. Cuddling.

Coffee. Meeting a friend over coffee.

A full moon on a clear night. Stargazing.

Food.

Karaoke!

Those are the things that make me happy

From Battlestar Galactica to zombie walks

2010-08-02T23:52:00.001-04:00

Can't really take much credit for this entry -other than copying and pasting the tweets, but I find it very amusing. I hope you do too.

Just your regular Twitter conversation:

@EcoGeek13: So apparently Frack is the go-to swear stand in for the SyFy network in the US. #Warehouse13

@BrandonErratt: yes it is catching on pretty Frakin' Fast!

@ClaudiaPetrilli: Dude! apparently? Battlestar Galactica and its prequel, Caprica

@EcoGeek13: I never got into BG. Did they use it a lot there as well?

@ClaudiaPetrilli: yep, that's how it all started #battlestargalactica

@BrandonErratt: on an unrelated note.. I miss Firefly #sigh

@ClaudiaPetrilli: don't we all? le sigh

@map_maker: nope, because I never saw it. *hides* @BrandonErratt

@ClaudiaPetrilli: what? really? @BrandonErratt #firefly

@map_maker: really really. Haven't seen bsg either
@ClaudiaPetrilli: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, sacrilege! neither one? careful where you thread, you're about to lose your #geekygirl badge lol

@BrandonErratt: I have not seen bsg either.. Not much of a scifi guy..
@ClaudiaPetrilli: but you like firefly.... / @map_maker

@EcoGeek13: Ah, Joss Whedon, the genius that is. It's why I watch Big Bang Theory. Plus, Dr. Horrible feature coming

@BrandonErratt: There is so much win in that post

@EcoGeek13: If I wasn't straight, I'd be all over @ActuallyNPH like Mel Gibson on a racial slur.

@BrandonErratt: its ok.. I'm a trysexual.. Try anything once.. Twice if I like it..

@ClaudiaPetrilli: hahaha, not a bad philosophy to live by ;)

@ClaudiaPetrilli: still, I won't try frozen monkey brains, though

@EcoGeek13: Why not? Monkey brains sound tasty!

@map_maker: frozen ones tho? I think they'd be better pan fried with butter and onions or something.

@EcoGeek13: Why not frozen. Be hood in a smoothie. /

@BrandonErratt: sell them at the annual Zombie Walk.. #TheCogThatTurnTheGears

And that's reason # 3592 I love Twitter!

Many thanks to @BrandonErratt, @EcoGeek13 and @map_maker for providing so much entertainment :)

Swing Dancing saves lives (or at least mine, anyway)

2010-07-29T05:56:00.005-04:00

You may or may not know that I have an MD degree. You may or may not know that I also suffer from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I am not gonna lie to you, going through med school was painful - literally and figuratively. And it took me 8 years instead of the usual 6 because some semesters I'd have to take less courses. I also fought a few good fights against the system but that's material for another post. All I am saying for now is that I've been called a shit disturber. I am proud of it :)

In the end, against all odds, I graduated. Then I came to Canada only to discover my degree was not valid here. Since I wasn't that interested in practicing medicine I didn't care that much. Let me give you some background here. Even before I applied to med school, I knew that what I really wanted to do was research so since my first year I started volunteering at the immunology lab. Some "summers" (There are no seasons in Colombia, so I am talking about the vacations between school years) I would go and do some sort of internship at some of the best institutes in the country. I did my internship in Molecular Biology, Genetics and Biotechnology. So, naturally, when I came here I figured the best way to get into the system was to do a PhD. I applied and was accepted into the Cellular and Molecular Medicine program at the University of Ottawa. I got a super awesome project and a really cool lab. I won't go into details here but it was on Cancer research and it was pretty cool. My life was perfect! I was truly happy. My dreams were finally coming through.

And then I got sick

I started having these weird neurological symptoms like breaking things and stuff. I've always been rather clumsy but this was more serious. And lab equipment, in case you didn't know is fracking expensive. Screwing up micropipettes that cost a grand to re-calibrate is generally frown upon. Or breaking electrophoresis chambers, for that matter. You get the drill.

At some point, MS was even being considered. Thank god the MRI came back normal. In the mean time I had a nervous breakdown and became very depressed. Eventually, I had to take a medical leave. Since I was an A+ student, my academic advisor told me I could come back whenever I wanted, even if it took me 5 years. But my world was shattered. My dream of becoming a professor, having my own lab and grad students became just that again, nothing more than a dream. And I LOVE teaching.

But! at that point I had already had that magical adventure that was my Trip to the Bookstore. Swing Dancing gave me a reason to keep going. I was given another chance to grow, to learn, to meet wonderful people and to teach. Sure it's not the high thrill of the academia (I pretty much said good-bye to my aspirations to win a Nobel prize *wink* ) but it is very rewarding nonetheless.

Yeah, it's been quite the trip. In 2007 I went on to win Silver medal with the Dynamite Girls at the Canadian Swing Championships. And I have a few other titles under my belt.

I can't imagine my life without dancing. And I am sure the best is yet to come! :)

On swing dancing and pain (it is not a sad post, I promise. No, really!)

2010-06-18T08:15:00.009-04:00

If you read my first post, you know by now that I was a premature baby (if you haven't, then you should. I think it's amusing).

I spent the first months of my life in an incubator. Very tiny I was and struggling to stay alive. In fact, my mother told me once, the doctors said to her she shouldn't get too attached to me cause most likely I was not gonna make it. But I did. Little by little I gained strength, was able to feed from a bottle and eventually went home with my mother.

I grew up, a sickly kid frequently in and out of the hospital. But grew up I did. Then when I was about 11, the pain started. Without getting into too much detail, I have a condition that affects my soft tissues, namely muscle and tendons. Which basically means I've been in pain for most of my life. On top of that (or more likely as the cause of that) my endocrine system doesn't work very well. Some paths in my brain - like the hypothalamic-pituitary-TSH-thyroid gland axis or the Serotonin pathway, are seriously misguided. Just to give you a scope, the thalamus regulates functions such as temperature control, emotions, sleep, appetite and salt balance. Some of you may have seen me put ridiculous amounts of salt in my meals. Now you know why. My sodium metabolism is all screwed up and I need extra salt for my cellular membrane Na channels to function properly. I also don't sweat which means my body overheats and I go into heat stroke very easily. Some of you may have seen me wear cooling devices in the summer. That is the reason why I stay indoors (and preferably in an air-conditioned environment) on hot days (so much for the Summer Solstice Girl, huh?). Most likely, it all has to do with some crazy autoimmune disorder. It runs in the family too. In my old days of molecular biology and molecular genetics I used to obsess about it. Now, I don't really care.

So, pretty much my body is effed up. No other way to put it, really.

However, I dance. Yes, I am in pain every time I dance (well, I am in pain every day of my life but it hurts more when I do any kind of physical activity). And yes, I overheat every time I dance. After a song or two, you'll see me running to the nearest fan, or outside if it is winter, or to the restroom to spray myself with water so I cool down.

I also cycle, and rollerblade and play tennis when it is not too hot outside. And of course, in the winter time I skate and I also ski (downhill). Winter is the best cause I don't overheat as much. And if I do, then I just reach for some snow and put it in my back. Instant bliss! :) If you're ever around me in the winter and your hands are cold, just put them on the back of my neck to warm them up. You'll be doing me a favour.

But back to dancing. Dancing gives me much joy. It makes me smile big time. Dancing is good for the soul.

A few months ago, a video went viral among swingdancers on Facebook. It was about this young woman with Rheumatoid Arthritis who is also a Lindy Hopper

I KNOW what she means. Every single word of it. And I am never giving up dancing. Ever!

So, save me a dance, will ya?

The Summer Solstice is almost here

2010-06-14T10:00:00.001-04:00

And I'm very excited about it!

Why, you may ask?

Well, let me tell you. I learned a loooooooong time ago - while reading a Geography textbook that belonged to my mother's only sister who was in middle school (I must've been 5 or 6 at the time and yes, I used to read textbook for fun. I've always been a geek and a nerd, ok?), that the day of my birth was a special day. The longest day of the year. The Summer Solstice, they called it. Sweet, I thought. But then I was left scratching my head. What the hell do they mean with the longest day of the year? Days last exactly the same, don't they? Every single one of them.

You see, where I was born, the sun rises at 6 am every day and sets at 6 pm every day. Give or take 10 minutes. I was dumbfounded. So I kept reading. And I saw a cool picture that looked pretty much like this one

Earth's orbital motion

The Summer Solstice. Then the light bulb in my head went on. I was the Summer Solstice Girl!

[mind you, I could have very well been the Winter Solstice Girl, but the book was biased toward the Northern hemisphere and I was only 5 or 6 so give me a break]

As a side note, that book also had pretty pictures of seasonal landscapes. That's when I stumbled upon that proverbial picture of a Canadian Winter Wonderland. A very serene scene of a cottage, by a lake all covered in snow. I was love at first sight. There and then, at that very moment, I decided one day I WOULD live in that country.

It took me a while but I made it :)

Still haven't made it to Norway, though. Perhaps next year!

Happy Summer Solstice :)

Trips to the bookstore are dangerous!

2010-06-08T04:28:00.000-04:00

Fall 2004. On my way to the University of Ottawa bookstore to buy my Molecular Biology textbook.

I get to the University Centre and the centrecourt is packed with booths, tables, stands and people. As it turns out it is Club's weeks which happens at the beginning of every semester. Cool, I think. But! I am on a mission. I've been told by my Molecular Biology professor that there was a screw up on the requisition and very few textbooks were ordered so I need to hurry up and get mine before they are sold out.... then I see some people dressed in Vintage (around the WW2 period) seemingly dancing in one of the corners. Naturally, my scientific mind wants to know what is that all about. I get closer and then I hear the music (hearing impaired here). And what do I hear? Wonderful Swing music!

I've been fascinated all my life with classic movies and particularly with Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers, Gene Kelly movies. If I didn't like my iPhone so much I would say that I was definitely born in the wrong decade. But I disgress. My heart is racing, who are those people dressed exactly like in my beloved movies, doing what I had seen so many times in those old Turner and MGM films from the first half of the 20th century?

Now of course I absolutely HAVE to talk to those people and find out how I can get involved. It is the U of O Social Dance Club, they say (now known as SwingUO) and would you like to sign in for the term? how much is it? I ask - you know, broke graduate student and all. $15 they say. Per class? I ask. No, no, for the whole semester, they say. Sweet! where do I sign up?

That's how I met Michelle, Bruce, Magali and Olivier, the founders of the club. I was hooked from day one. As a side note, I found out years later that I was the very first student to sign up and that they didn't want to let me see the sign up sheet cause they were afraid I wouldn't join if I saw there wasn't anyone else there.

Magali and Olivier were my first Swing teachers. They thought me my first swing steps (step, step, rock step). It was Olivier who encouraged me to go to the Ottawa Swing Dance Society weekly dances.

And the rest is history, as they say. Within three months I was an executive member of the OSDS, six months later I was the house DJ. In 2005 I hired Byron Alley - then co-owner of the Swinging Air Force in Montreal, to come and teach a workshop in Ottawa. In 2006 I finally managed to convinced him (with the help of Bryn Morin and Natalia Rueda) to move to Ottawa and start a swing dance school here... but that's another story.

The moral of this story? beware of trips to the bookstore. You never know where they are gonna take you!

My first Canadian party

2010-06-06T08:36:00.001-04:00

So, here I am... In Canada. The dream of my life!

Now comes the adjusting and the learning. Some situations are quite funny actually. Like the time when I was invited to my first Canadian party.

I get invited to this party -I had been living here for about a month or two.

Naturally, I am very excited. I show up fashionably late. You see, in Colombia people are always late -particularly for parties. You tell them the party starts at 10 pm, they show up at 11:30. You tell them it starts at 9 pm, they show up at 10:30. You tell them it starts at 8 pm, they think you are joking. Parties down there really don't "start" till past 11 pm and they go way up till 5 am or later.

Continuing with the story. I show up fashionably late. The house is already full of people sitting or standing in small groups, munching and drinking. Elevator music is being played in the background.

So, I mingle, eat a little, and wait.

About 45 minutes later I ask the host when is the dancing gonna start. The host looks at me like I am speaking in Chinese. Dancing? he says. And I'm like, yeah, dancing you know? we've been eating and chatting for a while... what about dancing? he looks perplexed. Well, is this not a party? I ask. Yeah -he says, a dinner party. And what the hell is a dinner party, I'm thinking to myself. I guess I am the one looking perplexed now cause he goes on to explain that there isn't gonna be any dancing at all and that people at dinner parties just sit (or stand) and talk and eat and get drunk.

Then I am informed that in fact most Canadian parties don't involve any dancing at all! Say what? oy, I think, living here is gonna be weird...

By 11 pm I am back home. Movie anyone?

I AM RUDE (or so I've been told)

2010-02-05T14:12:00.001-05:00

This is a note I posted on Facebook on Friday, January 18, 2008 but I think it goes well with my first post here so I decided to import it to my brand new blog. So, there!

__________________________

Being an immigrant is not easy! that is such a cliche and yet it is also such an understatement.

Even in a country like Canada where multiculturalism is regarded as a National value as stated in Section 27 of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, our cultural differences keep us apart from Canadian-born Citizens.

I am sure I am not the only immigrant who's had problems with Canadian-born people due to nuances of the language. Sometimes I wonder if I ever gonna fully master the English Language. Sure I have an outstanding vocabulary, my spelling is almost impecable, I can buy groceries, read signs, go to school. Heck, I even have got A+s in graduate courses and yet Canadian-born people and I cannot understand each other. I say white and they hear black.

I think my German ancestry doesn't help either. People in my family are very well known for their sterness. We are not sweet people. And we tell it like it is.

Hmmmm...... telling it like it is. This is what causes me grief the most. In my experience, people here don't say what they think. Opinions are considered rude... or at least my opinions are... and those of a lot of other people as I have witnessed many a time. The funny thing is that in Colombia, you talk, they kill you. In Canada, you talk, they consider you rude and they ostracize you. Not much of a difference since human beings are social animals. You take away the community from us and we die. A killing is a killing even if it is a social one.

There are many things I just don't understand. One of them is having to apologize when I speak up my mind. Or even more, why do Canadians are so easily offended (see quote from Page 29). Another one is having to to apologize when someone pushes me on the street or step on my toes the way Canadians do, just to give an example.

The first year I came here, I read this book by the Ferguson Brothers called "HOW TO BE A CANADIAN* *(even if you already are one)"

I though it was funny but only after six year of living here I am starting to fully understand it. My favourite Chapter is Chapter 16: Twelve ways to Say "I'am Sorry" How to be Canadian- in the worst way

[quote]

1. The simple Sorry
The most basic use of "I'm sorry". Can also be Shortened to the simpler "Sorry" or amended to the slightly more loquacious "Sorry about that". Using primarily after making unwanted physical contact with another person in a public place.

2. The Essential Sorry
The most common variation of "I'm sorry" and the one you will most often use. Can also be shortened to the simpler "Sorry" but formal usage is preferred. Used primarily when someone makes unwanted physical contact with you in a public place.

Example: When someone steps on your foot as you get off an escalator.

[/quote]

When I first read this I thought "you've got to be kidding me" . Then I realized that people actually do that all the time.

And the book goes on with the other ten.

Another very illuminating chapter is Chapter 2

[quote, page 29)

Canadians are very easy to insult. Case in point: Ian (one of the Ferguson Brothers and co-author if the book) was once in an elevator in downtown TO, and the only other accupant was a dear old lady [...] The elevator doors where about to close when a smartly dressed young woman came running up. The elderly lady immediately stopped the doors with her cane and called out, "Come in, Sweetie". The younger woman got on and glared out at the older woman. "I think that was very rude" she said. True story. Ian was agog. What would this well-tailored, ill-mannered woman possibly have to be insulted about?[...] Well it turned out that she was of Swedish extraction, you see, and she thought the old woman was makin a racial slur. "Sweetie/Swedie". Get it?. And no, we aren't kidding.

[/quote]

It is a great book really. It has taught me so much about being Canadian!!!!

The Summer Solstice Irony

2010-02-04T20:23:00.006-05:00

Once upon a time a baby girl was about to be born... she was due some time late August, early September. But something went horribly wrong and the birth ended up happening in June. On the Summer Solstice, to be exact.

Of course the Stork was completely unprepared -which is only understandable given that it was not supposed to happen for another two months. She was drunk. No, she was completely wasted. She misread the directions (or dropped the compass or something) and the poor baby girl ended up being delivered in a tropical country. Not bad, some would say for someone being born on the Summer Solstice. You know, Summer... tropical... kinda the same thing, temperature-wise.

Sounds like a great thing for this baby girl, right? 25 degrees Celsius all year round sounds like a dream come true for most people. Not for the Summer Solstice Girl. With a high sensitivity to sun in the form of both light and heat - translated into heat stroke and photophobia (perhaps the vestiges of prematurity or due to the fact that she was really intended to be born in a boreal country,) this little girl grew up dreaming of snow and winter. Sweaters, jackets, scarves and gloves. Snowmen, hot chocolate (well, that she still had) and sleigh rides. Winter sports. The things she used to day-dream of....

Ah, the paradox of the Summer Solstice Girl.

Instead she had to deal humidex, frizzy hair and sunburn. She was not happy.

It would be a very sad story -cruel really, were it not for the fact that finally the Summer Solstice Girl got to come to Canada! the Great White North, strong and free.

it's never too late, they say, to pursue one's dreams. Well, let's hope they were right.

Summer Solstice Musings

A man once made a promise....

The most beautiful person I have known

Mental Illness Awareness Week

I wish I had cancer

The Summer Solstice Girl is a geek

Now, it's like this, little Britches

Father's Day Musings

Old Summer Solstice Girl had a garden

The Summer Solstice is almost here

RASC Calgary Centre - A Complete Guide toRight Ascension and Declination

My 28-Day Challenge Follow-Up

The PHD Movie: Coming To Campuses Everywhere This Fall

My 28-Day Challenge

Poll: Twitter Handle Change

Live life to the fullest and all that crap

If Only

The winds of march that made my heart a dancer: These Foolish Things

Disclaimer

So here I am, broken - again!

Solitude. A poem in the making.

Two Sleepy People

I, the one who loves you

Movember Musings

The Summer Solstice Girl sometimes likes to write poetry

I'm a potato

A new milestone in my Canadiana

Don't want no flowers when I'm dead

Of Beavers and Canadiana

Of Beavers and Canadiana

On being Canadian

There'll be days like this

#ReasonsForAShrink 2

#ReasonsForAShrink

A very Un-Martha kind of girl

What makes the Summer Solstice Girl sad

What makes the Summer Solstice Girl happy

From Battlestar Galactica to zombie walks

Swing Dancing saves lives (or at least mine, anyway)

On swing dancing and pain (it is not a sad post, I promise. No, really!)

The Summer Solstice is almost here

Trips to the bookstore are dangerous!

My first Canadian party

I AM RUDE (or so I've been told)

The Summer Solstice Irony

RASC Calgary Centre - A Complete Guide to
Right Ascension and Declination