So stressed and exhausted I had to take a crying/disappearing/zone out break today when I got home from school. I feel embarrassed that I reached this point and I can't even claim to be a lawyer or surgeon or anything. But it happens, and I'm allowed to be stressed when I'm experiencing stressors. If I don't allow myself even that bit of acknowledgement then it can only get worse.

Fun things that've been happening to me: the manager at my former co-op job (at the local volunteer centre) and a manager at the Vancouver Aquarium contacted me a few months ago to apply to their jobs. Made me feel extra super special. I landed the volunteer centre job and I started this week. I did a pre-screening phone interview for the Vancouver Aquarium job today and I thought I did well.

It'd be awkward if I also got the Vanaqua job though because 1) the volunteer centre has always treated me very well and I'd hate to disappoint them and 2) the two managers are good friends. But I'll cross that bridge if I get to it - I'm sure the competition to get into Vanaqua is tough.

The volunteer centre work is comfortable enough, and considering I've only ever been paid intern wages, the salary is nice. They're giving me one day off per week to take courses, because I still haven't graduated. I am planning to take 1-2 courses per semester while working, meaning that I'd graduate in ~one year if all goes according to plan.

I am super stressed about school because I am Asian-failing this semester and I need to keep my grades up to maintain my scholarship. Without it I'd be paying ~33% more in tuition.

Dragonboat season just ended but ultimate is still ongoing. After biking on the weekend I realized I really only sleep well after thorough exercise, but I just don't have time for a regular exercise routine. It's frustrating that I can barely make one ultimate game per week. At that rate you're not getting stronger - it's just basic cardio and muscular maintenance. I miss being an athlete. 

Cosmo and I have been arguing the past few days and it's just sucked everything out of me. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. It's amazing how the petty disagreements about how dishes should be done or something else equally meaningless has the potential to ruin your whole week. 

I just realized we've been living together for 1.5 years already. We've been dating for two years. Maybe it's just my stress speaking through me right now, but I'm not ready to be married. That extra commitment would just be another stressor right now. 

Don't get me wrong - I'd go crazy without Cosmo. I wouldn't be able and I wouldn't want to face the world without him. I know that fully well and I always remind myself that when things aren't going well. But right now I'm stressed out, and not having committed to a marriage gives that evil little voice in the back of my head room to think, "At least I'm not hitched. I'm still an independent free person who can choose not to be here if I want to!" It's a shameful, yet useful coping method.

That's my brain dump for now! No brain space to be writing something more thoughtful. 

So I promised on Xanga a few years ago that I would make a music video for a song that I wrote (not a fancy music video - just one of me singing and playing the piano).

Seeing as I moved out of my parents' house and now have no access to a piano (which makes me really sad), and seeing as Xanga's demise is coming up on July 15, I thought I'd at least post the lyrics.

Lonely Moon

Oh lonely moon
I see your face but
there is no warmth in your company

Why do you stare
from way up there
you know us human aren't as cold as we seem to be

I spend my nights
just looking at you
You're looking back but you never see

I keep my eyes up on the sky
singing you words of love but never
expecting reply

And though my friends can laugh and ask me
What is there to see up in the sky?
It is cold and bare and empty
And it will be there tomorrow night

And though the light reveals your craters
Though the light is not your own
Only you will understand that
We are most beautiful when we're alone
Under a lonely moon

And all my friends can laugh and ask me
What is there to see up in the sky?
But it's only when I'm looking at the stars
That I understand all the reasons why

We are most beautiful when we're alone
We are most beautiful when we're alone

Under a lonely moon
Under a lonely moon
Under a lonely moon

I crossed the street at Granville Island today, hitting the zebra lines well ahead of the taxi that was rushing up to the crosswalk. The taxi nonetheless proceeded to barrel through. The driver even speeded up as he approached me and stared me down like we were in the WWE ring together as I stopped in the middle of the road to let him by. 

If Cosmo were with me, he would've stepped fully in front of the taxi while flipping off the driver. I always worry when he tries to fight the cars like that; I keep telling Cosmo they're more likely to win. Regardless, I made it to the other side of the street feeling daunted. I don't get angry like Cosmo, I just deflate and wonder why the world has to be so mean and awful. Sometimes I feel like crying. Despite having lived with my parents, I have no thick skin at all.

It's not that I lack fighting spirit. When I'm on the ultimate field I will not hesitate to rip up my opponent. But that's different.

I guess I am sheltered, but what of it? I don't think I should have to grow a thick skin and fire up my fighting spirit just to cross the damn road.

=========

In dragonboat, we paddle to the rhythm of "calls". The calls can be as mundane as "ONE-two, ONE-two" or "PUSH it, PULL it".

Frequently the team just forgets about the English language and goes straight to this:

Trust me that wasn't my idea.

Today my coach decided that he wanted the new call to be "Don't pussy out". As in: "DON'T (paddle stroke). PUSSY (paddle stroke). OUT! (paddle stroke)." Because that's supposed to motivate us to paddle harder.

Yeah. I think it's time for a new team.

AND THEN, the woman who kept splashing my butt the whole practice thought it'd be funny to make the following joke, "Hey if you're gonna get raped anyway why don't you just ask for like $10? At least then you'd get some money out of it."

Yeah. FUCK.

I don't understand why athletes have to be sexist dumbasses. Trust me, I've been on enough sports teams to know. 

=========

Cosmo took the new job. He's now second in command at a small nonprofit making 4x what I do at my part time job (4x per year, not 4x by the hour). Turns out nonprofit work does pay if you are high up enough!

And I am relieved.

We don't have a plan B if I lose my income. We don't have a plan B if we suddenly need to support his mother. But now we probably don't have to worry so much.

And soon I'll graduate and work full time too and I'll be even more relieved to be less dependent on Cosmo.

And even though I'm tired and grumpy tonight, I know that we have the best life together. I know that it's a privilege to eat the farmers' market veggies that we like, to do exciting recreational sports like ultimate and dragonboat, to watch the sun set on the Vancouver buildings as I speed by on the skytrain. 

Cosmo is the president of an arts charity. It's nearly midnight but he's not home yet because they're putting on a fundraiser concert. Our tired bodies will fall into bed and somehow muster enough strength for dragonboat races early in the morning. 

We live the best life. I couldn't ask for more, and even if we had more, I know we couldn't be any happier.

Somehow, we've made this house our home.

A panhandling woman in a wheelchair stopped me yesterday at Waterfront Skytrain station asking for help. Unless I've become familiar with the panhandler, I don't like giving out money, so I offered to buy her some food. 

"Oh yes, I want a Frappuccino," she said, indicating the Starbucks behind me.

I hesitated. I am a health nut who has taken kinesiology courses in health and nutrition in university. Frankly, the thought of a Frappuccino disgusted me. It is essentially a concoction of caffeine, saturated fat, sugar (a ton of it), and very likely also some artificial additives. 

There's not much in there that's good for you - especially if you are already a poorly nourished low-income person to begin with, and especially if you are a poorly nourished low-income person who chooses to eat junk over nutrient-dense foods. It's not that I never eat unhealthy food myself, but I make sure to limit these foods and to balance it out with other healthy choices. 

I offered to buy the woman bakery goods, expensive fruit smoothies, water - anything but the frappuccino, but the Frappuccino was all she wanted. I wished her good luck and turned to go. She seemed quite upset and she chased me with the words: "Why should I have to eat [only] what you like?"

A damn good point.

Health and nutrition are important. That I could get laughed at in certain social circles for saying this is telling of why our society is where it is; The top 3 leading causes of death in Canada are cancer, cardiovascular disease and stroke -- all of which are diet-related diseases (source: Statistics Canada and my Kinesiology course materials). And if that weren't enough, there are still other consequences. Our government will end up paying billions of dollars in medical costs for poor food choices. Additionally, many junk foods are manufactured by corporations using methods that are harmful to the environment and to good working conditions.

This is not what I want to support with my money, and it is certainly not what I would feel is ethical to give to someone else to put in their body. When I come across coupons for free food from McDonalds, I throw them away. I don't consider McDonalds food -- I would gladly buy a panhandler something from a cafe instead (and I have on many occasions). Once when I felt unable to say no to a more aggressive (but by no means dangerous) panhandler, he got me to buy him $30 worth of candy bars and pop. I felt like a sinking stone for the rest of the day. In contrast, there is another panhandler I see sometimes by Waterfront. His face lights up like nothing else when I give him bananas and I feel good about that transaction.

It's like when my grandfather was dying in the hospital, and the hospital meals sometimes consisted of processed foods with artificial additives in the ingredients. I thought, can't we do any better for our grandpa? I want him to have healthy, fresh, and wholesome food. On the other hand, a nurse told us to stress less about my grandpa's diet and to feed the dying man whatever he asked for - ice cream, sweets, whatever. Your grandpa's happiness is what's important now, he told us. But what an affront it is to be dying from poor diet choices due to a culture that celebrates exactly that -- and then to continue those poor diet choices until your death because it's what makes you happy! Is there no end to this cycle?

But I know what it's like to be deprived of choice due to a limited budget. Obviously I am nowhere as economically limited as the people whom I give food to, but I can imagine. The free market has its problems, but it allows me to eat rice whenever I want, or buy extra food for friends if I'm inviting them over. I can buy ingredients to bake a cake or make a salad when I want. Having money gives you the freedom of choice, and to be deprived of your ability to choose is demeaning. I get that. Even if I don't want to eat out, I'd like to have enough money to be able to choose in case I do.

So while I could be feeding someone's dignity by getting them what they want, usually when I ask panhandlers for their preference, I am asked to buy the equivalent of McDonalds. I've been asked to buy cigarettes even. Is an individual's dignity and right to choose worth the health, environmental and social consequences? I don't think so, but neither is it a small sacrifice.

It's tempting to be classist and say that this is a class problem, that low-income people are uneducated and more likely to choose poor quality foods. But I know plenty of middle-class people like myself who eat absolute junk (I had a colleague at Agriculture Canada who ate and still exclusively eats meat dishes and fast food). I know I have already put myself in a classist position just by being in a situation where I can choose for low-income people what they can or cannot eat.

I strongly believe that when it comes to health, people who can't make good choices must be taught and encouraged, especially if they have pressing nutritional needs. They must be taught and encouraged to use their freedom of choice responsibly. Cosmo's grandmother, who is recovering poorly from a stroke, still eats nothing but saturated fats and refuses to eat fruits and vegetables. There's a reason why Food Banks have nutritionist advisors. Choosing what you want to eat is not like choosing what you want to watch on TV. The consequences can be much more dire, and we all pay the price. 

I don't want to be judgemental. Very often it makes me the bad guy. I guess this is my way of caring, and I don't understand why people wouldn't.

I have a classmate, let's call her [Crisp]. Even though we went through the IB program in high school (where you take a full course-load of university-level classes), she always worked part time at the mall. She's still working part time at the mall through her university degree and it's apparent that all her money is spent on clothes. She is always wearing designer pants and shirts that are easily $150 a piece. She always looks fantastic - but what a way to submit to the rat race! How can you stand the hours and hours of retail horror (judging from my experience as a minimum wage rat at EB Games) just to throw it all away on a blouse? The very thought makes me sick.

I don't know how everyone is NOT blogging about money anxiety. How do people NOT have money anxieties? 

That's not to say that I don't have enough money, but that's why it's an anxiety. I always knew that I'd be unable to sustain sanity in my parents' house so I knew years ago that I had to start saving money. Thank goodness I was brought up frugal so it wasn't too hard.

I'm gonna be one of those annoying Glory Days Losers and say that I really miss being an athlete. I remember jamming my high school weeks full of cheerleading, strength class, ultimate frisbee, cross-country running, and dragonboat. I also remember the constant soreness of over-exercising, but at times I even loved as a feeling of accomplishment.

Now that I've devoted myself with work and school to climbing the economic ladder, it's all I can do to maintain an minimum level of physical activity. My goal used to be becoming "better and stronger" and keeping up with the best. Now it's a feeble "trying to stay fit." (Interesting to note how the two goals are actually quite gendered. Which is another reason why I hate merely "staying fit", as if women couldn't do more).

Cosmo is kind of in the same boat. He was always the nerdy, bookish type who didn't enjoy PE. But we both know that physical activity is critical to health, and we try to make the most of our busy schedules. Whenever we have an hour to spare, we go out walking in our neighbourhood. 

So far on our walks, we've covered the distance between 4 skytrain stops. There are all kinds of neighbourhoods in between. Cosmo and I live in and amongst a mass of mid-rise apartments, but the houses on our walks range from cute little bungalows to $3 million homes.

It's not like I've never seen houses before, but it's kind of surreal now to look at them. We have a widely-acknowledged crisis of housing affordability in Vancouver - a poor quality detached home is at the very least, $500,000. 

I'm a part time student. I work at two jobs - one is for money and another is an upaid internship for getting experience. It's not that the "internship" is teaching me anything I don't already know - and my employers know this. It's so that I can add bulk to my resume because every entry-level job I've looked at is asking for minimum 2+ years of experience in relevant fields. I'm only starting to hit that mark now, but in this job market, you gotta be over-over-qualified to even have anyone give you the time of day.

So when I see this sprawl of detached homes, it just doesn't make sense. How can anyone have so much money? How did all these people achieve social mobility when it seems like we never will?

I voice these worries aloud to Cosmo sometimes on these walks, pointing to pretty houses and sighing. He agrees with me, but after a couple times of this he said it made him feel like we live in a cardboard box.

I felt horrible obviously; I didn't mean to make him feel bad about what he is able to afford (I don't yet pay rent because my job doesn't pay enough. I do however, do the vast majority of the chores). I don't even want a big house. Truth is, I really love our cozy apartment (I wouldn't be able to keep up with the housework if we lived in anything bigger). But it's about social mobility and the ability to choose. And about not throwing our hard-earned money into years of rent until we can scrape enough together to buy.

And for me, it's also about becoming financially independent from Cosmo and my parents. I'm struck with worry sometimes when Cosmo is late coming home and I don't know where he is. I'd obviously be devastated if anything happened to him. But on top of that, I'd have to move back in with my parents (or quit school and work full time - but that would significantly put a damper on my social mobility).

I'm dependent. It feels vulnerable. We're all working hard and not getting ahead.

Thankfully, I'm switching to a higher-paying job next month (it'll be *just* enough to cover the semester's tuition, but it'll help). And Cosmo just got headhunted today for a position that would raise his wage by 150% of his current entry-level job. I don't want to influence him too much, but I hope he takes it. He'd be doing work that he is passionate about, and the money would help. It'd be a sigh of relief.

So. Still hacking up bloody phlegm and still really mad at that doctor who said I wasn't sick.

I forgot to mention the doctor's remedy for how to get through the week: just use over-the-counter meds! She admitted that it wouldn't actually cure me but it would relieve my symptoms.

You know how in over-the-counter medication (OTCM) commercials, the tagline is always "So you can get through your day!" The delivery of said tagline is always accompanied by a newly symptom-free actor who now skips happily through fields and blue skies and throngs of dancing admirers.

The thing is, when the rest of us self-medicate with OTCMs, it's not so that we can have a picnic in the sunshine. It's so we can drag our sorry asses back to the cubicle and through another 8 hours of work. 

My kinesiology/nutritionist professor recently confirmed what is, for me, a central tenet of Chinese home remedy theory: OTCMs don't work and you shouldn't take them. In striking contrast to my Caucasian partner, I was rarely given medication growing up (unless I was really very sick). Yes, OTCMs are effective at masking your fever, cough or congestion, but expelling phlegm and snot is exactly what your immune system needs to do in order to get rid of harmful pathogens from your body. Fevers are for "cooking" the pathogen to death.

Mask the symptoms, and you may get on with your day, but the illness stays with you for longer because your immune system doesn't get to do what it needs to.

Why does my doctor operate from such a different paradigm, one that substitutes the illusion of health for the real thing? Why does the field of kinesiology and nutrition take such a different approach? My prof actually recommended - get this - that we take care of our bodies when sick. As in, take the day off to sleep, take in plenty of liquids and good nutrition, and your immune system will take care of you. 

That's actually what you should do when you're sick. The only reason why you would need OCTMs is if you don't get sick leave benefits (students, people on contracts, people with deadlines, etc), and if you're forced to work through your illness. Just like how the electric light once extended the number of hours you could work in a day, OCTMs extend the labour force power. OCTMs are another formula for good capitalistic workers, and for some reason my doctor is in on the scheme.

So what's this sick stuff you're going on about? Just pop a pill and get back to work!

Since neither [Cosmo] nor I can drive, going to the doctor's has become quite a futile exercise. As soon as we're well enough to haul ourselves onto public transit, we're probably well enough on the way to recovery to not require a doctor.

That said, most common illnesses require bed rest most than doctors and meds, but it would be an annoyance in case going to the doctor actually became necessary.

=====================

I was hit with the flu last Friday evening. It was the works - muscle soreness, fever, sharp throat pain, head congestion, etc. I lost my voice for a couple of days too. But yesterday night I couldn't breathe without starting a round of coughing, which made sleeping really impossible, so I finally agreed to see a doctor in the morning. Cosmo made the appointment call to the university clinic for me while I slept in until about 9 am.

Despite not sleeping very much overall, I actually woke up feeling much better. Some of my voice had come back. I still felt like Ron Weasley when he got hit by the Slug-Vomiting Charm however, on account of coughing up toxic-looking phelgm every hour (Thank you J.K. Rowling for the perfect metaphor). Also entertaining: my abs are actually sore from coughing.

I noted to the doctor that I was feeling better, and she remarked herself that I would probably be coughing into the next week.

Then she told me that I should've gone to my 8:30am class this morning and taken the quiz instead of resting and sleeping in.

Well fuck! I spent most of the weekend not being able to do more than sit while my head spun. Just the thought of solid food made me want to puke. I only started feeling normal today, and I didn't know I would before waking up. Nobody hates missing school more than I do - I didn't get straight fucking A's by sitting on my ass! I didn't really need the doctor's note because the quiz I missed today was only worth about 0.5% of my overall mark, but I still think I deserve a fair chance.

Since when was it the doctor's job to ensure good capitalistic workers who put in no less than 10 hours of labour each day? Since when did doctors prioritize moving students along the university machine over minimizing the spread of infection? Nobody wants to hear me blow my nose through lecture or to see me cough up a slug-phlegm in class. Even if the university system necessitates the mistrust of students because there are often 300 people in a class, I should not be humiliated (she practically called me lazy) for being obviously sick and desiring a proper recovery. As if playing catch-up weren't enough of a bitch already.

I'm feeling super jaded and bitter. Since when did health-care practitioners become totally unconcerned with the maintenance and promotion of good health? 

Well whaddaya know, my little brother writes better short stories than I do. I wonder when I'm going to get tired of boasting about him. I'm sure it makes me sound like an old woman.

And what's this? Classical music romance, ohoho! I guess that means he really knows what he's doing with his life.

The door shut behind him as he made his way onto the porch. He sat down on the bench, sipped his coffee, and sighed. It was Christmas Eve. Despite the snow and the cold, He felt quite comfortable on the front porch in the early morning. The neighborhood was quiet that morning. The snow was light and plentiful. It was a peaceful morning. The soft glow of the sun crept up above the clouds; bits of sunlight sprinkling the neighborhood.

He smiled as he looked across the street at his neighbours' houses, all decorated with bright lights, candy canes and snowmen. He took a sip of coffee again. The snow could be shoveled later, he thought. The dinner party isn't until 8 in the evening, and it wasn't even 7 in the morning yet.

A voice called out from across the fence. "Well, aren't you up early this morning. Didn't know you were an early bird now."

"Good morning to you too, Eliza. Lovely weather, isn't it? It isn't often we get such nice snow down here." he answered. "Hop on over the fence. Let me get you a cup of coffee."

----

He lived with his grandparents. His mother and father were always overseas on business, and his sister had moved out four years ago. He just graduated from high school, but he already inherited his father's fortune. He spent his days at home, listening to music and playing piano. He taught music in the afternoons. His grandparents never liked the music, but they couldn't deny their grandson had some hint of talent, so they never said anything against it.

"So, what're you up to today? Practicing more piano? It's Christmas Eve, man. Take a break!" Eliza was always like that. She was always so laid back about everything. "Easy for you to say, everything comes to you so naturally" he replied.

"Are you kidding me? Quit trying to be so modest. You have to take some pride in yourself, yknow? I've played with you, you're not as bad as you make yourself to be."

Eliza had been his neighbour for the past 3 years now. She had moved next door around a week before Christmas, although the two never actually met until half a year after she moved. He was sitting on his porch that Summer morning, just doing his usual gazing into the distance, sipping his hot chocolate at the time (he only started drinking coffee after high school), when he heard a violin from next door. Where was this beautiful music coming from? He was curious. He was used to being the only musician in the block. He put his hot chocolate down, climbed over the porch railing and peered over the fence. The living room window next door was wide open. He wasn't expecting such a stunning girl to be his neighbour. And man, could she play the violin! She stopped suddenly, looked out across the fence, and saw his face, struck with awe. He smiled, and to his surprise, she waved and smiled back. "I play piano, let's play together sometime." he called.

 

 

 

They did this to us. They can never repair the wrong and the injustice. 

As Trumon got older, I became increasingly bitter towards him because he would not stand up for me, even though he knew I was right, even though he was in a position of privilege because the parents don't treat him badly. But he's my little baby brother, I don't want to ask him to be strong for me either. Children shouldn't have such burdens.

Trumon wrote this at the beginning of 2013 but I saw it just now. I always needed him to be there (and this he didn't always do) to say what I couldn't come to terms with: that the abuse was real and that I wasn't making it up. I just needed to hear it, to know that my mind wasn't playing tricks on me because I couldn't tell if I was going crazy. What if I really were just a spoiled, ungrateful brat? No ... no. It wasn't my fault.

We shouldn't do this to children. I feel like I'll always be a small child, waiting for the parents that I deserve.

Thoughts on parenting; thoughts on growing up

My parents and my sister have been on bad terms for years now. Being the baby of the family, no one is ever picking a fight with me. But because of this, for as long as I can remember, I've been stuck in the middle of the fight. Sometimes, the parents are right. Sometimes, my sister is right. But sometimes, I just can't side with anyone.

 

My sister's side of the argument is that the parents are abusive. She feels neglected, harassed and misunderstood. Dad has had a streak of immaturity and abusiveness throughout our childhood, which is was upsets my sister so much. She calls out on Dad for his irresponsibility as a caring father, which only makes things worse. Despite his actions, Mom still defends him, simply because he is Dad. The parents have absolutely no reason left in them. My sister has been insisting for many months to move out to her boyfriend's house, where it is a much more caring and loving environment, as opposed to our own house.

The conclusion to this argument: the parents pays the tuition; the parents feeds the house; the parents supports the family financially; you are an ungrateful, spoiled, stubborn child who just wants to be with her boyfriend.

 

My parents' side of the argument is that my sister is stubborn. She's stubborn, spoiled, and bossy. In Chinese philosophy, they say that my sister has too much of the fire element. My parents feel that my sister can never realize her wrongs because she's too proud and too stubborn. They try to protect her from harm and heartbreak. They try to tell her that she has to remember her reputation as a woman and that moving into her boyfriend's house is bad for her. Mom thinks that she's done everything she can as a mother and that she's not wrong.

The conclusion to this argument: the parents pays the tuition; the parents feeds the house; the parents supports the house financially; you are an ungrateful, spoiled, stubborn child who just wants to be with her boyfriend.

 

A few months down the road, the arguments and the bitterness still linger. The atmosphere in the house is always heavy. No one is safe. A few weeks later, things break apart. Mom gives up and my sister move out, but she still hopes that my sister will come back. My sister leaves the house in tears. Mom doesn't still doesn't understand the abuse that my sister feels. And then the house is quiet. Present day, and now it's mom's turn to crack under the pressure.

 

-----

 

We all hear stories about homophobia and bullying in school. We all hear about suicide attempts and the suffering that the LGBT community has put up with. We have all seen those kids with mental disabilities in the hallway, or alone on the side of the classroom. We all hear and see those kids who ridicule those with disabilities, or hear homophobic jokes around the class. It wasn't until recently that I found out that my cousin has partial autism. We were always told that he had a case of ADD. It came to me like a slap to the face. How was it that for my entire childhood, we were told something completely different? Furthermore, I don't think his parents knew that it was autism either. 

I remember when we were young, imagining the future meant finding a job, having a house and a car, having a lovely spouse, and children. I remember hearing girls talk about how cute it'd be to have a kid, and then they'd proceed to come up with names and everything and how they'd live their lives. Everyone thinks of those kind of things at one point or another. But then I read this article the other day. I sat there, speechless, for many moments. It occurred to me how little I knew about parenting. Many times, you think of parenting as having a spouse, a house, income, and a child. You imagine parenting to be taking your child to lessons, going out for dinner with them every so often, having popcorn and movie nights, and so on.

 

----

 

I had a girlfriend in the past. It was my first girlfriend, and unfortunately, our relationship ended badly. Why? We were young. We still are. Because of that relationship though, I've learned many things. I've learned the many sides and obstacles to having a relationship. As teenagers, your relationship is not just between you and your partner. Your relationship is also your parents' relationship too, unfortunately. I've learned that the hard way, which I can say quite confidently that that has scarred me.

Meeting new people is that much more complicated because of that past experience. I find myself ridiculously nervous around girls' parents now, whether it's my crush, or just any other girl friend. It's that fear of parents looming over your shoulders at every moment. My sister says that I'm just a flaker who gets pushed over by something as measly as that, and that if I really liked someone, then those things wouldn't matter. But even then, the fear doesn't go away.

 

----

 

I always laugh it off and make a joke out of my white hairs when people mention it. "Oh, I'm such an old man, hahaha". Seeing as I can't hide it, why not embrace it? But sometimes, I think about it, and I feel as if they show something. 

I've watched my sister and my parents fight since I was in grade 4 or so. I've been in a terrible relationship that has left a bad scar. I've been in this bitter atmosphere for so long, and sometimes, it really does feel like I'm too old for this. 

You hear cases of disabilities, bullying, abuse, death and struggles, and it scares you. You hear stories like Anarchist Soccer Mom's son Michael, shootings, and mental illnesses, and it scares you. You wake up in the morning knowing that anything could go wrong between someone in the house, and it scares you.

You try and move on from your past relationship experiences. You try to find new people, find new relationships, new friends, and it scares you. You meet people's parents, you're put into expectations, you're put in these strange atmospheres, and it scares you. You try and imagine a life with the perfect wife,  job and kids. But then you hear these cases of mental illnesses, you experience it first hand at your cousin's house, you see your sad excuse for parents, and it scares you.

 

 

Thank god for Spring break week giving me the time to see my optometrist, counselor, doctor, chiropractor, and maybe also the optician. The 40+ hour work week just doesn't allow you any time to breathe.

Thank god for the Canadian health care system, student discounts, free counseling services from my school, and my somewhat affordable two health insurance plans, otherwise I'd've spent my paycheque for the month. And I'll still have to pull out a lot of money.

I've tried to give apples to panhandlers downtown in the past a few times and they told me they couldn't eat apples anymore because their teeth had fallen out. They weren't especially old people, between 30-50 years old. Even so, properly cared for teeth should last you into old age. My uncle is a dentist and my paternal grandparents have never had a need for dentures.

It's absolutely criminal that neither our provincial nor federal government cover dental care. Teeth shouldn't be something that only the rich can afford to have.

Never mind hoping the government will enact a plan for ending/reducing poverty.