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november 11, 2000.Man, what a week. I had assignments - big, heavy, comprehensive, time-consuming assignments - due this week, as we roared into our last class cycle of the first semester. Imagine my horror on Monday morning when I realized how much was due and how soon, compared to the little I had already accomplished. For the first time since he got this job, I was actually pleased that the Boy was on a New Brunswick run; with the Boy out of the house for days, I could live like I would never let him live, should he be home. It was a festering mess, my friends - if we had had a pre-existing bug or mouse problem, I would've had to charge rent. Fortunately, I'm living in a place very much unlike the Toronto shit holes of my recent experience. Get this: not only are we paying about a third of what this space would go for in Hogtown, but there is an efficient support network in place to make out living experience better. My superintendent listens to me without condescension or anger when I come to her with issues. Unlike the guy at Hippie Hell, she doesn't treat me like a child in a lunatic asylum. Unlike the guy at the Last Bachelor Pad, she responds to issues in a very reasonable amount of time (our door was fixed within two weeks of the report. The Boy moved out of the LBP with the bathroom ceiling MIA after 6 months.) Um. Where did that come from? Anyway, the point is that despite my festering, the house was never all that gross. Yes, every dish in the house awaited a wash, neatly stacked by the sink. Yes, personal hygiene went by the wayside for a couple days. Yes, a week's worth of unread newspapers stacked up in my living room (making me nostalgic for Dirk's messy Bathurst apartment.) Yes yes yes. I drank from the same glass for days on end, knowing that I'd drunk distilled water from it the night before and that nobody else had been around to disturb my certainty. I spent my nights sitting at this very kitchen table, wracking my brain for educational applications and meaningful activities as the cat cried neurotically for her travelling slave and the minutes became hours. Oddly enough, it was incredibly exhilarating. I think it was the emotional certainty, more than anything else. Since we moved here, I've been adrift intellectually, spiritually & physically. I don't know what to think, what to feel, how to act. It was like moving into residence at U of T, but a million times worse: I have no friends an hour down the road, I have no meal hall to feed me and no janitorial service to clean my bathroom. I'm a girl who likes to succeed, and it's been so hard to succeed that I've been unreasonably depressed for an unreasonably long time. Being stressed out about school was like coming home. I can go nuts, work late, be tired, be anxious, pull off miracles - I'm good at it and I've done it lots of times before. Completing those assignments made me so proud. Finally, something that's right up my alley. So in the midst of my snake week, I was perhaps unreasonably happy. But it's not something I want to take apart; I'm just glad that it happened at all. I need the confidence: in 9 days, I'll be in high school. Again. And this time I can't wear jeans with huge holes in the knees and a plaid shirt over a black leotard.
The following note appeared in our church bulletin last week: "Pot Luck & Lobster Pots." Feed your body, mind & soul on November 10th. We will start with a pot-luck supper. Then we will engage in a dialogue on First Nations Fishing Rights (particularly lobster fishing in Esgenoopetitj [Burnt Church]). Our guests will include community member(s) from Esgenoopetitj, representative(s) from the Coastal Communities Network, and Aboriginal Rights Coalition - Atlantic observer(s). Special invitees include the candidates in the upcoming federal election. It's exactly the kind of thing that I usually consider for a few seconds and forget about. The kind of event that seems like a good idea, but not enough of one to rouse me out of my general stupor. So we went. I baked muffins to bring, which in itself is a noteworthy event - I've never contributed to a potluck before (the cans of pudding I brought to Brigit's pumpkin carving potluck in '96 really don't count). I felt all grown up & stuff. We arrived a bit late, leaving the house as soon as the muffins were baked. We ended up sitting at the head of the room, as those were the only seats left. That turned into a very strange thing: when the tables were cleared away and the chairs arranged in a circle, we were bracketed on the right by the Reform (excuse me, Alliance) candidate and his entourage, the Coastal Community leader, the NDP candidate and her entourage and two members of Nova Scotia's African community. On our left were the Progressive Conservative candidate and his entourage, the speaker from Burnt Church & the moderator. The ARC-A observer was on my immediate left, and we whispered together during the discussion. The more that I think about it, the more I'm convinced that we should've eaten at the back of the room, even if that meant standing. But if we did, we would've ended up next to the Communist candidate. The potluck was terrifically interesting, as potlucks tend to be. When you've been around for awhile you get a sense of what the tasty dishes will be; when you're new in town you don't know what the hell you're going to get. Mysterious spices blending in with thin juices from other dishes; vegetables acquiring a greasy patina as everything shifts & joins on your plate. The potato salad was excellent. There was also crusty bread. And…and…NO ONE ATE MY MUFFINS!! I was upset. So much for feeling like a contributing adult. During dinner, we chatted with Kaye, the lovely lady partway down the folding table. We had spoken for about 20 minutes before she mentioned that she was running for office as the local NDP candidate. Man. How understated can you get? The other candidates were a bit more forward, and I got a decent sense of their personalities. If nothing else had happened the entire night, I would've been well-rewarded for coming out. I have never in my life been at an event that allowed such access to my representatives, especially in a format that they couldn't distort with puff-pieces and non-issues. I feel incredibly more politically empowered today than I did last week (and it's not just because I understand the American Electoral College system backwards & forwards these days.) Here's my completely biased review of the candidates in the Kings-Hants electoral district. Feel free to skip down if you don't care.
I have this theory. My theory is that we should encourage electoral responsibility by making voters draw a picture of the candidate they'd like to vote for. This would eliminate the voting-for-the-party syndrome, plus elections official would have to actually do something to count the votes. I suppose that if this went through, candidates would begin to sport crazy accessories and physical features in order to be identifiable. But anything that brings back handlebar moustaches is okay in my book. It was incredibly educational. We talked about Aboriginal rights and Burnt Church for 3 hours, until people started to sneak off and the survivors were trying to get the blood back in our legs. Why does the Department of Fisheries & Oceans have the right to decide who will fish where? Why does the DFO get this moral high ground when it has historically done serious damage to the sustainable capacity of the seas? Why were the peaceful agreements between the Native & white fishermen ignored by the government? Why does it take millions of dollars and a decade to legally reassert treaty rights that have been in existence for over 200 years? Why does the RCMP sit on over 1000 confiscated traps, further impoverishing the communities? Why is it alright for the government to act in an extralegal and violent manner? And why has the media consistently reported false information? As for my own contribution, I made a comment about whole history. Most study of First Nations people ends with Contact just as most history about the African community of Nova Scotia is concerned with the present day's "multiculturalism." "There was life before Columbus," gkisedtanamoogk (the speaker from Esgenoopetitj) said in his opening speech. "There was also life after Columbus," I said in my comment. One guy actually referred to gkisedtanamoogk as "Chief," right before saying, "I understand you people have some legitimate beefs." I couldn't help the whole-body cringe. He was with the Reform candidate, of course. "I'm not a chief," was the quiet response, "Footnote." We went home at the end of the night feeling more adult that we can recall. In the van I clutched my bowl of muffin crumbs and my sheaf of papers; imbued with an unaccustomed gravity. So this is the upside to being an adult.
Today has been a slow day, oppressed by heavy slate skies and permeated with silence. The stores are closed for Remembrance Day and I forgot to get bread & milk during the week. We won't starve; we'll just have to survive for a few days without fresh fruit and milky goodness. The Boy is watching "The Perfect Storm" behind me. I'm conscientiously objecting: when Agamemnon's dad died this summer, he was coming home from seeing this movie with his Little Brother. It's just too shiver-inducing to contemplate. Besides, the intellectual sons & daughters of fisherfolk surround me every day. They've all lost at least one family member to the northeasters wracking my area right now. I don't need George Clooney to "make it real" for me. Other than the hyperactive movie soundtrack, it's been a pretty peaceful day. Sometimes we have trouble being together for 36 straight hours and the friction turns into fighting. Not today. I got a bit cranky at noon, but I went for a walk in the woods to deal with it. It's a pretty great day to be outdoors. Despite the skies, it's perfectly cool and there's enough trapped ozone from the rains to keep you pleasantly alert. I found my way to the middle of a small stand of pines near my house and thought my really deep thoughts for awhile. It's amazing that we've gotten to the point where interacting with nature is an infrequent, voluntary thing. Sure I walk a lot these days, but I walk on asphalt and between buildings. Pushing between low branches, trying to be calm about the cobwebs occasionally hitting on my face, I thought about that. A true nature's child would not be neurotic about creepy crawlies because she wouldn't know the difference. We live our lives - most of us, that is, with Sage & co. as a notable exception - in hermetically sealed boxes. Our big thing is to get away from Nature, so that we can interact with it on our own terms. "Of course I'm in love with Nature. Nature is everybody's darling." (i'm working without my library here in this slanty shanty, gimme a break) |
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