Another one of us just turned seventeen an hour ago.
I know that we should be partying it up and all that jazz but we kept this special occasion small, just between the five of us. One thing about us five is that when we're all together, almost nothing ever goes as planned. So most of the times we take the liberty of not planning things at all; and just go with the flow.. And usually being spontaneous rewards us good fun. Our first birthday celebration took place on Friday, from Jericho all the way to Red Robins on Robson, on foot. Our initial starting point was supposed to be the Eatery and we would go from there. Of course, once again, our planning streak hit us and we didn't end up eating at the Eatery. So we decided to go down to Jericho, to a location Dannica and Isabel had named "the Secret Beach" because according to them, it's exclusive and no one knows about it. Turns out it wasn't so secret afterall! After chilling at the not-so secret beach, we walked the beautiful neighborhood and went down to Jericho Beach.
Another thing about us is that we are weak little creatures when it comes to cravings. And the birthday girl was craving burgers from Red Robins. So we walked.. Yes, walked across the bridge, across town, to Red Robins. It was one of the most calorie burning birthdays we had, without the help of alcohol or anything!
We split after dinner; birthday girl was tired.
Of course, birthday girl didnt' know anything about our surprise. A few hours ago, we sneaked into her back yard with the classic DAVID DQ cake; we just LOVE personalizing the cakes, and we have such talent for it! My past two birthday cakes consisted of a hooker, and a "MOTHERFUCKER" (love the expression on the DQ worker's faces).
Happy Birthday Dan the Man!!
* * * *
On Wednesday, after two years of careful planning, we finally launched our Passport to Play event. Alysha, Sioban and I, all part of the VDSC, came up with this idea on a ferry on our way back to Vancouver from a 2010 Legacy conference in Victoria. We can't take all the credit because I actually "borrowed" the idea from ISF, my dearly missed school in Germany.
The event was sort of a "Mini Paralympics", containing various sports for para- and special-athletes (para-athletes are students with a physical disability, as special athletes are students with mental disabilities). There was bocce, wheelchair soccer and basketball, obstacle course, softball, and so much more. Our goal was that the Vancouver students with disabilities will continue their participation in these sports after the event now that they have access to it. It was a nice warming in the heart when a girl asked me where she could keep playing bocce.
A few weeks ago, Alysha and I were invited to attend the AIM Games in Surrey, a similar event Passport to Play that's been running for five years now. Deb, the lady who organized the AIM Games, was one of the people who helped a great deal in organizing Passport to Play, and as we scanned the numerous sport events and tried to learn, she told us that their first year was hell. So we were considerably worried, but I think ours went fantastic! Of course, there were some flaws that we can work on, but nothing majorly went wrong.
We had the Olympic mascotts there as well, and the students loved them! Although I am not so pro-Olympics, the government gave us a funding of ten thousand dollars for this project because of its ties with the Paralympics. Without that funding and support, we could not have hosted this event and I did make a decision of hosting this event because it would help a cause of good importance, providing students with disabilities an opportunity to be active, although it supported a cause that collided, the controversial Vancouver Olympics.
http://olympichostcity.vancouver.ca/events/hostacityevent/grantrecipients.htm
http://www.tourism2010.com/CMS/Event/Detail.aspx?EntityID=196
* * * *
Thursday was one of those really stressful days. My phone has been with the company of my friend Peggy for about a week and to pick it up, we decided to meet at the Metrotown skytrain station. I "needed" my phone, and maybe that's why I scheduled it at the same time of my VYSO audition. So after letting her know that vanessa will pick it up instead of me; neither of them knew what each other looked like... But Peggy had my cellphone and she could reach Vanessa through that. Or we thought. Here's where we learn and relearn that technology can be so unrealiable; my phone died, leaving both my friends hopelessly "looking for" a face they couldn't recognize.
After losign the battle with technology, I had my audition. To be honest, I don't think I made it. The competition for the senior orchestra is like a fight for the last pushup bra on boxing day and I wasn't feeling so good about it. Results are coming out in two weeks, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
I was feeling sort of down so we stopped by at Meinhardt and picked up my favorite olives in the world. When that wasn't enough, my mom and I went to Antoine's. Then everything was good :D
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
Beautiful Vancouver
The place to see and be seen in Vancouver, energetic Robson Street boasts over 200 shops, cafés and services. Spend a day on the strip - spoil yourself in trend-setting fashion boutiques or sip a latté as you relax and people-watch from a sidewalk café. With a weekend average of some 80,000 streetgoers, there are plenty of people to watch!
And when you walk down towards Pender and then take another short five minute walk towards Carrall, you will witness the transformation in the atmosphere. You have entered the oldest, the most exclusive neighborhood in Vancouver, the Downtown East Side! With a day`s average of some 5,000 people inhaling or injecting drugs, there are plenty of people to watch!
This may as well be on the tourist guide book along side the previous one because soon, foreigners will witness for themselves the myth of beautiful Vancouver and its "Corner" and say, wtf?
A few of us from Galiano; Peggy, Neelam, and Angela, were reunited today in the distant land of Downtown East Side at a workshop on homelessness, hosted by 4REAL.
Liz Evans from the Portland Hotel Society, was our "tour guide" in the DTES. As Liz told us about her experiences and life in DTES, she described the mindset of many volunteers that come down to help. They come, expecting to make a difference and helping people get out of their harmful lifestyle, and when they don't see the change, they get frustrated.
People have to be realistic about what they can and can't do. And because the recovery process in a hurt place as this is painfully slow, sometimes all you can do is listen and be open minded.
After our short session with Liz, we visited the Portland Hotel, the low-income apartment for DTES. One thing I loved was the residential Garden project; gardening is so theraputic and it also builds a sense of community.
Then we visited Insite, North America's very first safe injection site. The injection site supplies clean needles for people to use (people bring their own drugs) and not only, they have a rehabiliation program in the same building, consisting of a few different levels, each stage closer to recovery.
This was followed by a visit to the DTES Pigeon Bank. I'd never really even thought of a bank as a need for homeless people but most locals are on welfare programs that send cheques and it seems obvious now, that most are homeless, but not penniless.
Then last but not least, we visited the DTES dental office. Most doctors volunteer their hours there. I was pretty amazed to see the very basic needs met for the locals.
However, there is only ONE of each in the whole of DTES. There are many food and clothing banks run by various charity groups but the big money projects such as the ones mentioned previously (safe injection sites, low-income buildings, dental clinics), lack the support of major organizations like... hmmm the government. For a while now, I've refused to believe the bad things people say about the government; having come from a country of political corruptance, the politics being one of the reasons my parents decided to leave the country, Canadian government gives an illusion of being pretty damn supportive. And here, we have become so spoiled that we blame our littlest problems on the government. But this workshop made me cynical!
We learned that 85% of the funds going to "help" the DTES goes to enforcement (police, criminalization of drugs, etc), something like 10-15% on prevention, and less than 1% on harm reduction (Injection Sites). That sounds pretty ridiculous considering the numerous studies having proven the effectiveness of safe injections sites and facts, not opinions, on the positive effects of legalizing drugs.
The DTES area is being victimized to gentrification rather than being helped and treated as a whole. The government is building bigger and nicer buildings that people of DTES don't need and raising housing prices that they can't afford.
And when you walk down towards Pender and then take another short five minute walk towards Carrall, you will witness the transformation in the atmosphere. You have entered the oldest, the most exclusive neighborhood in Vancouver, the Downtown East Side! With a day`s average of some 5,000 people inhaling or injecting drugs, there are plenty of people to watch!
This may as well be on the tourist guide book along side the previous one because soon, foreigners will witness for themselves the myth of beautiful Vancouver and its "Corner" and say, wtf?
A few of us from Galiano; Peggy, Neelam, and Angela, were reunited today in the distant land of Downtown East Side at a workshop on homelessness, hosted by 4REAL.
Liz Evans from the Portland Hotel Society, was our "tour guide" in the DTES. As Liz told us about her experiences and life in DTES, she described the mindset of many volunteers that come down to help. They come, expecting to make a difference and helping people get out of their harmful lifestyle, and when they don't see the change, they get frustrated.
People have to be realistic about what they can and can't do. And because the recovery process in a hurt place as this is painfully slow, sometimes all you can do is listen and be open minded.
After our short session with Liz, we visited the Portland Hotel, the low-income apartment for DTES. One thing I loved was the residential Garden project; gardening is so theraputic and it also builds a sense of community.
Then we visited Insite, North America's very first safe injection site. The injection site supplies clean needles for people to use (people bring their own drugs) and not only, they have a rehabiliation program in the same building, consisting of a few different levels, each stage closer to recovery.
This was followed by a visit to the DTES Pigeon Bank. I'd never really even thought of a bank as a need for homeless people but most locals are on welfare programs that send cheques and it seems obvious now, that most are homeless, but not penniless.
Then last but not least, we visited the DTES dental office. Most doctors volunteer their hours there. I was pretty amazed to see the very basic needs met for the locals.
However, there is only ONE of each in the whole of DTES. There are many food and clothing banks run by various charity groups but the big money projects such as the ones mentioned previously (safe injection sites, low-income buildings, dental clinics), lack the support of major organizations like... hmmm the government. For a while now, I've refused to believe the bad things people say about the government; having come from a country of political corruptance, the politics being one of the reasons my parents decided to leave the country, Canadian government gives an illusion of being pretty damn supportive. And here, we have become so spoiled that we blame our littlest problems on the government. But this workshop made me cynical!
We learned that 85% of the funds going to "help" the DTES goes to enforcement (police, criminalization of drugs, etc), something like 10-15% on prevention, and less than 1% on harm reduction (Injection Sites). That sounds pretty ridiculous considering the numerous studies having proven the effectiveness of safe injections sites and facts, not opinions, on the positive effects of legalizing drugs.
The DTES area is being victimized to gentrification rather than being helped and treated as a whole. The government is building bigger and nicer buildings that people of DTES don't need and raising housing prices that they can't afford.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
RIP Mr.President
Breath very slowly, and focus on one thing instead of a million things at once.
We're all fucking crazy. I'm having a BigMac meal at 5am in the morning before going to bed, my 15 year old cousin is getting plastic surgery, and I've come across way too many homeless people with PSPs.
And just when you think you've had enough of that crazy, you go right back into the loop of crazy and spin and spin until you realize there's no way out .
Well, there's one way out, and it's not, contrary to popular belief, the easy way out.
South Korea, a country with one of the highest suicide rates, was traumatized by an unexpected death this morning. Korea's last year's president had jumped off a cliff. Apparently he was already going through hell after he'd been succeeded. This seems to be a common occurrence in the post-presidency state in Korea. Once their title and power is gone, so are most of their PR forces that'd been protecting them from public attacks and accusations. Most ex-presidents are accused of accepting bribes, a common practice in politics, and according to my mom, the issues are mostly taken to court. However, by some inconspicuous conspiracy, most ex-presidents get away with it, walking away with enough money for their whole life and their many generations to come. Others aren't as lucky, such as this one.
I'm not trying to justify his bribe-taking actions. But people are mean, and in a mean world, death is the one thing that gives the illusion of being forgiven. No matter a person's past, when he dies, he merely becomes a memory and we feel sympathy that we couldn't when he was alive; except in the case of a suicide. When someone commits suicide, we do what we do best; judge. We automatically try to measure up their fear, endurance, sorrow, selfishness, and just whatever that must've been going through their heads; some conclude with the simpler answer: they were weak. Some, with some sympathy.
I think people ponder on committing suicide if the suffering outweighs the joy. And often, when people consider suicide, they push the idea even further by punishing themselves on merely considering it, because they feel they are flawed, weak, crazy, or sinful. But “suicide is not chosen; it happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain,” and it is merely an imbalance between the two. Therefore, the definition of bearable depends on the person; just like anything else. So can we really say that they were weak?
I went to hot yoga today, and it felt amazing. I think everyone should seriously do yoga (and smoke a joint).
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090524/ap_on_re_as/as_skorea_obit_roh
We're all fucking crazy. I'm having a BigMac meal at 5am in the morning before going to bed, my 15 year old cousin is getting plastic surgery, and I've come across way too many homeless people with PSPs.
And just when you think you've had enough of that crazy, you go right back into the loop of crazy and spin and spin until you realize there's no way out .
Well, there's one way out, and it's not, contrary to popular belief, the easy way out.
South Korea, a country with one of the highest suicide rates, was traumatized by an unexpected death this morning. Korea's last year's president had jumped off a cliff. Apparently he was already going through hell after he'd been succeeded. This seems to be a common occurrence in the post-presidency state in Korea. Once their title and power is gone, so are most of their PR forces that'd been protecting them from public attacks and accusations. Most ex-presidents are accused of accepting bribes, a common practice in politics, and according to my mom, the issues are mostly taken to court. However, by some inconspicuous conspiracy, most ex-presidents get away with it, walking away with enough money for their whole life and their many generations to come. Others aren't as lucky, such as this one.
I'm not trying to justify his bribe-taking actions. But people are mean, and in a mean world, death is the one thing that gives the illusion of being forgiven. No matter a person's past, when he dies, he merely becomes a memory and we feel sympathy that we couldn't when he was alive; except in the case of a suicide. When someone commits suicide, we do what we do best; judge. We automatically try to measure up their fear, endurance, sorrow, selfishness, and just whatever that must've been going through their heads; some conclude with the simpler answer: they were weak. Some, with some sympathy.
I think people ponder on committing suicide if the suffering outweighs the joy. And often, when people consider suicide, they push the idea even further by punishing themselves on merely considering it, because they feel they are flawed, weak, crazy, or sinful. But “suicide is not chosen; it happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain,” and it is merely an imbalance between the two. Therefore, the definition of bearable depends on the person; just like anything else. So can we really say that they were weak?
I went to hot yoga today, and it felt amazing. I think everyone should seriously do yoga (and smoke a joint).
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090524/ap_on_re_as/as_skorea_obit_roh
Monday, May 18, 2009
Long Weekend
I took another one of my long weekends, this time, followed by Victoria Day. I was hoping to catch up on some school work but that didn't go as planned.
The long weekend gave my family time for one of those long dinners we used to have. Last night, over salmon and white wine, we put on the table the unification of Korea debate. I personally wasn't strong on it; I just didn't feel like the unification is a necessity. However, my mom and homestay student felt otherwise; they made a neglected but viable point; we are one people! I remember in grade two SS class, we were taught about pro-unification and the friendly North Koreans in the red scarves. I don't think unification is as big of an issue as it used to be..
This dinner was followed by another gathering with a less political topic. We finally got together for a night out for dinner; food was at Goldfish.
The long weekend gave my family time for one of those long dinners we used to have. Last night, over salmon and white wine, we put on the table the unification of Korea debate. I personally wasn't strong on it; I just didn't feel like the unification is a necessity. However, my mom and homestay student felt otherwise; they made a neglected but viable point; we are one people! I remember in grade two SS class, we were taught about pro-unification and the friendly North Koreans in the red scarves. I don't think unification is as big of an issue as it used to be..
This dinner was followed by another gathering with a less political topic. We finally got together for a night out for dinner; food was at Goldfish.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
West Fest
What a crazy day! I just got back from West Fest, a celebration for the launch of Free the Children's Me to We office in Vancouver. Jesse Cruickshank emceed the night and Marc and Craig Kielburger inspired us with stories of their past experiences. My most memorable presentation was by Michel, a former child soldier who endured the brutal Great War of Africa.
Before the show started, Alysha and I sold buttons for their "Got Goat?" project, a fundraiser for the Alternate Income program at Free the Children. The central idea is that a goat is merely an animal to us, but in third-world countries, it is a source of income and food. We had a blast selling the buttons and we made over $300!
The Marianas Trench were there at the show that night. It was hilarious because it seemed like the lead singer kept wandering around the front expecting to be swarmed by an army of crazed teenage girls; no swarming happened.
HAHA, this picture always makes me laugh.
Before West Fest, I was in Surrey, at Tamanawis Highschool, as a spectator for the annual Surrey AIM games, a sports day for students with mental and physical disabilities. Alysha, Sioban and I, have organized a similar event for Vancouver, called Passport to Play. It'll be launched on May 27th, at John Oliver Secondary.
Before the show started, Alysha and I sold buttons for their "Got Goat?" project, a fundraiser for the Alternate Income program at Free the Children. The central idea is that a goat is merely an animal to us, but in third-world countries, it is a source of income and food. We had a blast selling the buttons and we made over $300!
The Marianas Trench were there at the show that night. It was hilarious because it seemed like the lead singer kept wandering around the front expecting to be swarmed by an army of crazed teenage girls; no swarming happened.
HAHA, this picture always makes me laugh.Before West Fest, I was in Surrey, at Tamanawis Highschool, as a spectator for the annual Surrey AIM games, a sports day for students with mental and physical disabilities. Alysha, Sioban and I, have organized a similar event for Vancouver, called Passport to Play. It'll be launched on May 27th, at John Oliver Secondary.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Mother's Day and its preceding days
Honor thy father and mother.
In Christian beliefs, parents have a God-given authority over their children that can't be defied; if dishonored, the offense is not only towards your parents, but to God Himself. They are to be honored unconditionally except in the conditions of them sinning or them causing you to sin. This commandment; although the most "realistic" compared to the previews ones, which talk mostly of one's relationship with God, rather than the human to human relationships; contradicts the culture at the time because it gives equal power to male and female, which was rarely the case. Nowadays, it is somewhat opposite the case; it is common for mothers to have more power in the household and more influence over their children. I mean, they did go through that nine months of bloating and that nine hours of labor.
Today is mother's day and although it was a last minute decision, I decided to make dinner.
I chose to make Soy and honey glazed salmon because I had such limited time and this came up to be one of the simplest dishes. Despite the haste and simplicity, it turned out really nice! My brother Sean, who said he'd make the salad, bought a ready-to-go salad from Safeway, that cheater.
I regret not having enough time to make it look nice, as you can tell by the picture, it looks really boring and empty. But, I got a thumbs up from all of my family so I'm off the hook! : )
* * * * * * * *
Yesterday was VYSO's final concert of the year. We played Overture by Weber and five movements from Carmen, one of which was my flute solo.
So I was pretty nervous, and being a flautist, you need to watch your nerves.. Because your nerves will project right through your sound. There have been many times in performances where I felt confident and relaxed but my body told me otherwise, resulting in my lips shivering. And don't try to be optimistic, because this does not sound the least like vibrato. When I told my fellow flautists, they told me they'd experienced the exact same thing, which, being or at least trying to be super simple minded at the time, instantly made me feel better.
Entr'acte
My flute solo! The sound quality is terrible but if you can hear, it starts with the harp and the flute, later joined by the rest of the orchestra. In our rehearsals, the strings section played the harp part, which I thought would be the performance plan. When, an hour before the concert at our final rehearsal, the strings were replaced by a single harp, I felt like it just sounded so quiet in the huge auditorium. And I'm gona blame my squeaking on the high note on that! Oh, and of course, on the jinxes from my brother. Somewhere near the beginning, you can hear Sean quietly saying "choke, choke, choke". That little bastard.
Overall, it went pretty well; we all agreed it was the best one of the year. Our concert took place in Kay Meek Center, wayy into West Van, but despite the distance, Amrit, Isabel and Jonathan came to watch and we finished the night with Chinese food.
I have another excuse for my wrong notes! I must admit, throughout the concert, I was half asleep and half zoned out and half dying from exhaustion. If that even mathematically makes sense. Well, this explains the state of mind I was in.
* * * * * * * * *
The night before, Sherry and I went out; we went out, which lead to me getting locked out. We hung around and at around nine, we brought company from Surrey. Then the drunken night carried on from a random guy teaching us astronomy to meeting a fellow drunken girl on the skytrain to getting locked inside the skytrain (AGAIN. At the same skytrain station!) to getting locked out of the house.
All the buses had stopped running when I got to 22nd station, so I had to shamefully call my friend Tracy to pick me up.. (If by any chance you're reading this, Tracy...You know you saved a stupid kid from truble and I don't know how to thank you!)
It was around two when I got home. Okay, good enough, I could still get a good 6hours of sleep til I have to wake up for my rehearsal.
Let me just say that I always carry around my keys. Except that night.
Silently cursing the new door we just installed (my old door used to just open without unlocking once you pushed it hard enough), I went to the back because I knew it would be open. But of course, it wasn't; otherwise I would have been awake during my performance. I knocked on my brother's window for a good 15 minutes, with no luck. I really didn't want to wake my mom, but I had no choice. Desperately, I called my house, only to remember my stupid stupid suggestion this morning when she told me about random phone calls in the middle of the night. I told her to disconnect the phone before going to sleep, and she did just that.
Yep, so I did the unthinkable; I slept on my balcony. I'm grateful for the comfy chairs.
In Christian beliefs, parents have a God-given authority over their children that can't be defied; if dishonored, the offense is not only towards your parents, but to God Himself. They are to be honored unconditionally except in the conditions of them sinning or them causing you to sin. This commandment; although the most "realistic" compared to the previews ones, which talk mostly of one's relationship with God, rather than the human to human relationships; contradicts the culture at the time because it gives equal power to male and female, which was rarely the case. Nowadays, it is somewhat opposite the case; it is common for mothers to have more power in the household and more influence over their children. I mean, they did go through that nine months of bloating and that nine hours of labor.
Today is mother's day and although it was a last minute decision, I decided to make dinner.
I chose to make Soy and honey glazed salmon because I had such limited time and this came up to be one of the simplest dishes. Despite the haste and simplicity, it turned out really nice! My brother Sean, who said he'd make the salad, bought a ready-to-go salad from Safeway, that cheater.I regret not having enough time to make it look nice, as you can tell by the picture, it looks really boring and empty. But, I got a thumbs up from all of my family so I'm off the hook! : )
* * * * * * * *
Yesterday was VYSO's final concert of the year. We played Overture by Weber and five movements from Carmen, one of which was my flute solo.
So I was pretty nervous, and being a flautist, you need to watch your nerves.. Because your nerves will project right through your sound. There have been many times in performances where I felt confident and relaxed but my body told me otherwise, resulting in my lips shivering. And don't try to be optimistic, because this does not sound the least like vibrato. When I told my fellow flautists, they told me they'd experienced the exact same thing, which, being or at least trying to be super simple minded at the time, instantly made me feel better.
Entr'acte
My flute solo! The sound quality is terrible but if you can hear, it starts with the harp and the flute, later joined by the rest of the orchestra. In our rehearsals, the strings section played the harp part, which I thought would be the performance plan. When, an hour before the concert at our final rehearsal, the strings were replaced by a single harp, I felt like it just sounded so quiet in the huge auditorium. And I'm gona blame my squeaking on the high note on that! Oh, and of course, on the jinxes from my brother. Somewhere near the beginning, you can hear Sean quietly saying "choke, choke, choke". That little bastard.
Overall, it went pretty well; we all agreed it was the best one of the year. Our concert took place in Kay Meek Center, wayy into West Van, but despite the distance, Amrit, Isabel and Jonathan came to watch and we finished the night with Chinese food.
I have another excuse for my wrong notes! I must admit, throughout the concert, I was half asleep and half zoned out and half dying from exhaustion. If that even mathematically makes sense. Well, this explains the state of mind I was in.
* * * * * * * * *
The night before, Sherry and I went out; we went out, which lead to me getting locked out. We hung around and at around nine, we brought company from Surrey. Then the drunken night carried on from a random guy teaching us astronomy to meeting a fellow drunken girl on the skytrain to getting locked inside the skytrain (AGAIN. At the same skytrain station!) to getting locked out of the house.
All the buses had stopped running when I got to 22nd station, so I had to shamefully call my friend Tracy to pick me up.. (If by any chance you're reading this, Tracy...You know you saved a stupid kid from truble and I don't know how to thank you!)
It was around two when I got home. Okay, good enough, I could still get a good 6hours of sleep til I have to wake up for my rehearsal.
Let me just say that I always carry around my keys. Except that night.
Silently cursing the new door we just installed (my old door used to just open without unlocking once you pushed it hard enough), I went to the back because I knew it would be open. But of course, it wasn't; otherwise I would have been awake during my performance. I knocked on my brother's window for a good 15 minutes, with no luck. I really didn't want to wake my mom, but I had no choice. Desperately, I called my house, only to remember my stupid stupid suggestion this morning when she told me about random phone calls in the middle of the night. I told her to disconnect the phone before going to sleep, and she did just that.
Yep, so I did the unthinkable; I slept on my balcony. I'm grateful for the comfy chairs.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
A week off. To Galiano
I got back from Galiano yesterday at around 7pm, and although I was exhausted from no sleep from the night before, headed from the ferry straight to school for Desserts and Drama night, Ideal's annual art show. The moment we landed in Vancouver I was overwhelmed with a low because of the inevitable return to an inescapable and routine lifestyle and the realization that nothing had changed, only me, which can be a very scary thought. I think it was a good thing I went to school because it's better just being around people than ruffling around in your bed alone with your whole body wanting to shut down but your brain refusing to let go.
The constant frenzy isn't anything special or new, I noticed that everytime I take off and come back, an extreme low, a crash is inevitable. But because this time my retreat wasn't just a vacation, rather, an intense experience for the brain and the heart, I'm expecting and hoping for the crash to stay.
I always say, "I wish I could be a hippie for a day", and I think in a very long time, I finally came pretty close, minus the weed. Followed by that week of overflowing to-do's and time constantly on my ass; not having to worry about school, work, future, and ridiculously immaterial things, was so liberating and gave me time to actually think without being interrupted by phone calls (there was no reception!) and post-it notes every where I look. The group was a gathering of 19 highschool students, 13 from Vancouver and 6 from Port Alberni and mentors (AKA tormentors); each one of us with our own stories and ideas to share and a goal of challenging discrimination. And with that motivation, we were to make a short video on anti-discrimination at a small film school called GIFTS on beautiful Galiano Island.
We were divided into sub-groups depending on what type of film (documentary, animation, drama, etc) we wanted to make. Inspired by Moby's "Sky is Broken", I wanted to make an animation film; I didn't know how tedious and complicated animation would be. During our working times, we sat in front of computers in the "Nerdhole" and worked while other groups filmed outside, in the sun! As jealous as I was, I don't regret choosing animation because I learned so much about Photoshop and Aftereffects, a program where you can make your picture move, and with animation, you can make anything happen, and ways of communicating your ideas is limitless.
But before we could start the process of storylining and drawing characters, we had to come up with the message we wanted to convey and how to show it through our piece. For my group, which consisted of Branden and Jonah, both from Port Alberni, and myself, this was the hardest process of all; we really had an overflowing of ideas and everything we decided on would complicate itself into an incomprehendable theme. Our first idea was a FPS video game film on the affects of discrimination on the racist. This idea couldn't work because we couldn't find a way to justify the racist's violent actions and couldn't take the risk of depicting a mixed message. Our second idea was a view into the minds of three strangers on the bus. The three stranger are of different colors, and we demonstrate both the random thoughts (eg. what to have for dinner, what to wear tomorrow) and the circumstancial and subconscious thoughts (eg. the way person naturally relates to a certain colored person when reading about crime, way a person resituates themselves on the bus depending on the color of his neighbor, and etc.)
Both our ideas revolved around a thing called "subconscious racism"; we were all devoted to this vague idea that only on the second day of the week, with five more days left to finish our film, we decided to change it. In truth, we were so blindly in love with the idea of "subconscious racism" that we didn't even know how to exactly define it. I first brought up the idea of "subconscious racism" because I discovered my inner racist. Having drifted from culture to culture, continents to islands, I have always considered myself to be multicultural and open minded; but one day I caught my mind freely and sneakily judging and justifying, after an anti-racism workshop that I whole-heartedly participated in. After the workshop and on the bus, a stereotypical emo girl walked in, and although I can't describe in words how the mind works, closest thing is, it was a split second of "she thinks she has the worst of everything". The duration of that thought was so short and the visibility so faint that it could have easily slipped away, but I caught it and had a holy shit, you hypocrite moment. And after catching my mind in action that one time, I caught a lot more. And constantly catching this subconscious mind in action and just being aware changed my attitude a whole lot.
We also argued that this "subconscious racism" idea creates a new intake into the whole anti-racism argument. The fight against racism has somewhat become a blaming game where fingers are always pointed towards the "racists", "others" or "bad guys", rather than us, and everyone. I think this piece had the potential to redirect the accusing fingers and reconnect people with the neglected little voices in our heads.
When we are aware of our thoughts, we can do more to control our actions followed by those quiet thoughts. With the help of Angela, the school board's anti-racism and diversity consultant who brought me on board, we discussed "subconscious racism" and came to a conclusion that "subconscious racism" in fact lines itself with prejudice. Prejudice is "a feeling, favorable or unfavorable, towards a person or thing not based on actual experience (negative and positive)". The minor difference between "subconscious racism" and prejudice is that subconscious racism is a subconscious division of people into categories, while prejudice sides towards one particular side of that division. Three cups of coffee and countless reconsiderations later, we decided to completely renew our idea once again. The topic of "subconscious racism" was very insightful and educational, but it was much too vague and difficult to convey. Hitting a stop point was difficult and having to acknowledge that we need a change of idea was even more disheartning, but we were warned beforehand to "love nothing" and with that, we let go.
Our new idea reflected the long caffein filled discussion we had in an attempt to revive our "subconscious racism" idea. In an attempt to define the word, we examined the origins of racism/prejudice. Needless to say, much history is involved, but the present media also plays a huge role. We're all affected by Hollywood's definition of beauty, masculinity, the smart kind, the obedient kind, the main character, and the extra. And with this in mind, our piece shows the dilemma of authentic self versus the media influenced self formed by the "layer of skin" media has wrapped her in. We used boiling for the background, to create a messy and unrealistic affect. We played with real images, cropped a bunch of random images into pieces and stuck them together into one body (sorta like Angela Anaconda) and placed them into TVs, magazines, posters, all of which represent the media.
On the last day, exhausted and caffeinated with coffee beans from the last minute work the night before, we showcased all of our videos. All of the videos turned out great, we put into film what we wanted to say, and we all left with the pride that we all had a part in them.
It's funny because before, I would have considered this week to have been either an excuse to miss another chunk of school and "take a break", or the most "ineffective" time I'd spent since spring break, "effective" use of time, meaning studying physics, cramming for chemistry test, practicing flute, constantly checking off my to-do list, and so on. I have single handedly avoided to do any of that "effective" stuff.
I think we have developed a fear of not being in constant action. We are afraid of taking a break because the world is going so fast, and it'll take that much longer for you to catch up. And from that fear, we became obsessed. Obsessed with our own futures, our own financial situation, our own survival. And with deadlines breathing down our necks, it's hard to not to be obsessed. In the midst of so many people to see, things to do, places to be, and physics, math, chemistry to learn, I can't say for sure that social justice and racial discrimination would have been my priority before this trip.
The constant frenzy isn't anything special or new, I noticed that everytime I take off and come back, an extreme low, a crash is inevitable. But because this time my retreat wasn't just a vacation, rather, an intense experience for the brain and the heart, I'm expecting and hoping for the crash to stay.
I always say, "I wish I could be a hippie for a day", and I think in a very long time, I finally came pretty close, minus the weed. Followed by that week of overflowing to-do's and time constantly on my ass; not having to worry about school, work, future, and ridiculously immaterial things, was so liberating and gave me time to actually think without being interrupted by phone calls (there was no reception!) and post-it notes every where I look. The group was a gathering of 19 highschool students, 13 from Vancouver and 6 from Port Alberni and mentors (AKA tormentors); each one of us with our own stories and ideas to share and a goal of challenging discrimination. And with that motivation, we were to make a short video on anti-discrimination at a small film school called GIFTS on beautiful Galiano Island.
We were divided into sub-groups depending on what type of film (documentary, animation, drama, etc) we wanted to make. Inspired by Moby's "Sky is Broken", I wanted to make an animation film; I didn't know how tedious and complicated animation would be. During our working times, we sat in front of computers in the "Nerdhole" and worked while other groups filmed outside, in the sun! As jealous as I was, I don't regret choosing animation because I learned so much about Photoshop and Aftereffects, a program where you can make your picture move, and with animation, you can make anything happen, and ways of communicating your ideas is limitless.
But before we could start the process of storylining and drawing characters, we had to come up with the message we wanted to convey and how to show it through our piece. For my group, which consisted of Branden and Jonah, both from Port Alberni, and myself, this was the hardest process of all; we really had an overflowing of ideas and everything we decided on would complicate itself into an incomprehendable theme. Our first idea was a FPS video game film on the affects of discrimination on the racist. This idea couldn't work because we couldn't find a way to justify the racist's violent actions and couldn't take the risk of depicting a mixed message. Our second idea was a view into the minds of three strangers on the bus. The three stranger are of different colors, and we demonstrate both the random thoughts (eg. what to have for dinner, what to wear tomorrow) and the circumstancial and subconscious thoughts (eg. the way person naturally relates to a certain colored person when reading about crime, way a person resituates themselves on the bus depending on the color of his neighbor, and etc.)
Both our ideas revolved around a thing called "subconscious racism"; we were all devoted to this vague idea that only on the second day of the week, with five more days left to finish our film, we decided to change it. In truth, we were so blindly in love with the idea of "subconscious racism" that we didn't even know how to exactly define it. I first brought up the idea of "subconscious racism" because I discovered my inner racist. Having drifted from culture to culture, continents to islands, I have always considered myself to be multicultural and open minded; but one day I caught my mind freely and sneakily judging and justifying, after an anti-racism workshop that I whole-heartedly participated in. After the workshop and on the bus, a stereotypical emo girl walked in, and although I can't describe in words how the mind works, closest thing is, it was a split second of "she thinks she has the worst of everything". The duration of that thought was so short and the visibility so faint that it could have easily slipped away, but I caught it and had a holy shit, you hypocrite moment. And after catching my mind in action that one time, I caught a lot more. And constantly catching this subconscious mind in action and just being aware changed my attitude a whole lot.
We also argued that this "subconscious racism" idea creates a new intake into the whole anti-racism argument. The fight against racism has somewhat become a blaming game where fingers are always pointed towards the "racists", "others" or "bad guys", rather than us, and everyone. I think this piece had the potential to redirect the accusing fingers and reconnect people with the neglected little voices in our heads.
When we are aware of our thoughts, we can do more to control our actions followed by those quiet thoughts. With the help of Angela, the school board's anti-racism and diversity consultant who brought me on board, we discussed "subconscious racism" and came to a conclusion that "subconscious racism" in fact lines itself with prejudice. Prejudice is "a feeling, favorable or unfavorable, towards a person or thing not based on actual experience (negative and positive)". The minor difference between "subconscious racism" and prejudice is that subconscious racism is a subconscious division of people into categories, while prejudice sides towards one particular side of that division. Three cups of coffee and countless reconsiderations later, we decided to completely renew our idea once again. The topic of "subconscious racism" was very insightful and educational, but it was much too vague and difficult to convey. Hitting a stop point was difficult and having to acknowledge that we need a change of idea was even more disheartning, but we were warned beforehand to "love nothing" and with that, we let go.
Our new idea reflected the long caffein filled discussion we had in an attempt to revive our "subconscious racism" idea. In an attempt to define the word, we examined the origins of racism/prejudice. Needless to say, much history is involved, but the present media also plays a huge role. We're all affected by Hollywood's definition of beauty, masculinity, the smart kind, the obedient kind, the main character, and the extra. And with this in mind, our piece shows the dilemma of authentic self versus the media influenced self formed by the "layer of skin" media has wrapped her in. We used boiling for the background, to create a messy and unrealistic affect. We played with real images, cropped a bunch of random images into pieces and stuck them together into one body (sorta like Angela Anaconda) and placed them into TVs, magazines, posters, all of which represent the media.
On the last day, exhausted and caffeinated with coffee beans from the last minute work the night before, we showcased all of our videos. All of the videos turned out great, we put into film what we wanted to say, and we all left with the pride that we all had a part in them.
It's funny because before, I would have considered this week to have been either an excuse to miss another chunk of school and "take a break", or the most "ineffective" time I'd spent since spring break, "effective" use of time, meaning studying physics, cramming for chemistry test, practicing flute, constantly checking off my to-do list, and so on. I have single handedly avoided to do any of that "effective" stuff.
I think we have developed a fear of not being in constant action. We are afraid of taking a break because the world is going so fast, and it'll take that much longer for you to catch up. And from that fear, we became obsessed. Obsessed with our own futures, our own financial situation, our own survival. And with deadlines breathing down our necks, it's hard to not to be obsessed. In the midst of so many people to see, things to do, places to be, and physics, math, chemistry to learn, I can't say for sure that social justice and racial discrimination would have been my priority before this trip.
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