Confession (And a couple shameless plugs :D)

I have a confession.
I am an inspiration junkie.
And Barack Obama's speeches give me my inspiration fix.
I've always had a passion for politics, but his campaign is especially exhilarating. My entire life (albeit it a short one thus far), I have studied history. Finally I get the chance to watch it unfold in front of me! My excitement is almost out of control. Eg. I have a bit of a collection of Obama gear, including a yard sign.
The downside is, of course, is that I cannot actually participate in the election. But now I that have all this energy, I'm finally checking off a few things on my moral 'to do' list.

Yesterday I got the chance to go canvassing with local NDP candidate Linda Duncan. I was horribly nervous at first, but after about two houses that feeling disappeared, and was replaced by one of excitement. As her campaign manager said, it was a bit of a poli sci lesson for me, as I was introduced to some awfully fuzzy logic belonging to some residents. The man who was a PC-NDP swing vote a prime example.
But overall I was overjoyed to be able to participate, and to talk to people in the community.

Also, last spring, my friend Shauna (also a Obama fan, and who is also always inspiring me with her work ethic) and I realized that homophobia and sexism are a large, unrecognized problem at our school. This prompted us to form Our ERA, to raise awareness about these issues. We've been planning since May, so this September we're going to hit the ground running. I'm anxious to confront the prejudices at our school head on, to make a difference.

And I must admit: it's great to be inspired!

Yay for sentimental blog posts!

It is that time of year again. Time for Becky's Semi-Annual Room Destruction/"Re-Organization" Fest! This basically consists of my taking everything from my room out of it's place, piling it on the floor, putting about half of back, and then becoming bored. It's usually about 6 months before I become motivated to once again tackle the task.

But with the upcoming family garage sale, I was given the opportunity to rid my many bookshelves of some of the old books that I have outgrown. This meant that my actual interesting, read titles were given a new home; a nice shelf which was a luxury condo compared to their usual home on the floor, buried under old concert posters and CDs.

And I found this all so exciting! Think of it: No more torn dustcovers, and I could actually arrange them by author, subject, etc! The geek inside of me (most of me, in fact) was proud of my work.
But it was more than just an exercise for my inner librarian. It seems to me that many, myself definitely included, look to label themselves; to find security in knowing we are either this or that. And when we find ourselves split between two things we lose ourselves, not knowing how they can meet within us. But what I learned from the simple task of gathering those books which matter to me, is that what we read is one of the truest reflections of who we are.

Because there, on one shelf, sat the poetry of Canadian giants Cohen and Atwood with Obama and Anderson Cooper; the works of Vonnegut and Richler with Hollywood screenplays. Feminism sits beside Monty Python; Post 9/11 security next to the Kennedys and Vietnam and the Beatles.
Some of these seem to go well together, others do not (who ever thought that Jessica Valenti and John Cleese would make such a great pair?); But all these books mean something important to me. It's comforting to be reminded that I'm more than what a single label can define me as. Rather, we're all a just a sum of many, many experiences, and unfortunately live in a world where oversimplification is far too easy.

We watched Into the Wild last night... after we finished I stepped out my sister's cabin door and could not believe that I am there, in Alaska. The bus where Chris McCandless took shelter is only a 2 hour drive away.
The film made my last post, full of superficial worries and thoughts, seem ridiculous. It's frustrating, too frequently I find myself caught up in material things... works like this one just remind me to wake up and do something about it.
That said, I don't think people should martyr Chris McCandless, or try and live his life exactly, he did make many mistakes. But that spirit of living the life you want, the courage to defy the norms, is something that I think we forget frequently. It shouldn't have to be made into a movie to recognize and praise it... I guess we should support those with that courage more often in our own lives. Or at least I know I really need to :)

An odd sort of patriotism

So I think my promise to post more often was a bit of a death wish. I doesn't seem like it's been that long since December, I cannot believe that it's been 7 months! (Curse you Facebook!)
To sum it up, spring basically consisted of watching the US Democratic nomination (I can't believe Obama actually won!), a sweet Hawksley Workman concert and the annual trip down east. And school. Lots and lots of school...
By now I'm sure that the few people who used to stop by have given up by now (I would have too :P), but I still enjoy blogging, so on I shall go! Hopefully the free time I have in summer will mean more time to write.

So far this summer I've been visiting my sister, who goes to university in Alaska. I've been before, but never to the interior of the state, where she lives. It's odd to be in the country which is the focus of such constant media attention and discussion. I find both the similarities and differences between our countries to be fascinating, although my sister is convinced that I've just fallen victim to the "elephant-mouse" syndrome. Frankly I don't think it to be, as she insists, an inferiority complex on our part... I don't know what it is! Whatever it is, it's interesting.
Unlike in Edmonton, here Vietnam and Iraq aren't just news items and history books, but instead a large and painful part of the social conscious. Today we went on a bike ride through the local military base... it was odd to be "inside the machine". There was even a mock up of an Afghani village, complete with street signs in Dari. That was quite surreal... a life or death situation set up as if it were in an amusement park, or a playground. But still it was just an everyday part of the base, I suppose everyone was just used to it.

I didn't quite realize how much I appreciate Canada until I was in America for so long. Not to get me wrong, everyone here has been amazingly kind and helpful. I just miss the feeling of Canada, or perhaps that which is familiar. I can't imagine a life without the CBC, coloured money, or the word "washroom".
I suppose I've always been more patriotic to the things that make Canada unique than I have to the actual country/government itself. And I think that's quite alright for me, for that way there's of a chance for getting the "my country can do no wrong" attitude.
Anyways, I'm enjoying it here, but I do miss Peter Mansbridge ;)