History in the Making - Yeah...So?

When we ask "Who cares?" it is often to brush off a topic we don't like or want to talk about. But sometimes it can show how much we care by the normality of not caring. Allow me to elaborate.

Last night, history was made as Kathleen Wynne won out against her opponent, Sandra Pupatello in a third-ballot victory at the Liberal leadership convention, giving Ontario our first female, openly gay Premier.

But what I found most liberating is that those two points I just highlighted are not the highest topic of discussion. Yes, it has been a historical moment for those of us fighting for gender and LGBTQ equality, but it's not overblowing the political issues at stake.

I find there are stages of media and societal attention with bringing these topics into the spotlight.

There is total ignorance and blindsiding - where the media refuses to acknowledge women and LGBTQ members at all, or very minimally, out of fear and prejudice. The risk of 'exposing' people to the thought that it is okay for women and gays to hold such powerful roles in society. The media keeps it quiet in an 'out of sight, out of mind' type of policy.

There is the 'coming out' stage, where the only thing the media focuses on is gender or sexual orientation. We saw a lot of this in the US election this past November with huge headlines focusing on 'The first female this" or "the first gay that" rather than political standings. This can be great exposure to showing progress towards equality.

But then there is another stage to be reached. Where it is public knowledge that a politician is female or gay, and the topic fades into the background again. Not because society is turning a blind eye, but because there is a level of acceptance that can look beyond those labels to the political issues at stake. I feel that is where the large divide between the US and Canada lies.

We are celebrating the history that was made last night for equality, but it's not the headline of every news story. Front pages of newspapers this morning are not simply "GAY FEMALE NEW PREMIER" but rather titles directed at Kathleen Wynne as an individual winning this leadership. Those points are not shunned from the media spotlight entirely - almost every article mentions the 2 facts - but they are not the first things that people are reading. Often further embedded in articles the points come up, but not with the fever and shock value that can be seen in media in the States.

One CBC News article stated:

Wynne said the province is ready to accept an openly gay woman as premier.

"The province has changed, our party has changed. I do not believe that the people of Ontario ... hold that prejudice in their hearts," said Wynne, who is married to Jane Rounthwaite.

There is no questioning or speculation about Wynne's abilities based on her gender or sexual orientation. There are no FOX News debate panels accusing her of sending out the wrong message because of the fact that she is female and gay. Our media journalists know it is pointless to try and spin the story in that direction because Canadians will just react with "Yeah...so?"

We have come to a stage of conditioning where we see these points for what they are: facts. There is no need for debate.

The debates lie within the politics. There is no doubt, Wynne will receive media criticism, there will be questioning of her abilities - but it will be from political and economic stand points about hard-hitting issues for the province's citizens.

The same CBC article finished with:

Jackie Blackett, speaking from Toronto’s gay village, said Wynne represents a refreshing change in Ontario politics.

"I think it’s great,” Blackett told CBC News. "It should be an equal opportunity for everyone. It just shows that society has really progressed. Personally I don't think anyone’s sexual orientation should be a factor."

Today we are celebrating a win for our province, and tomorrow we'll all go back to complaining about the weather.

Referenced: CBC News, It's a Wynne-win for Ontario liberals, January 26, 2013.

Of Coffee Shops & Gas Stations

I had a existential life numbing moment at a gas station today.

I was leaving campus and realized my car was running near empty. This gas station is at the opposite end of town from campus with about 3 other stations in between, but it's always the cheapest and friendliest. Definitely worth the risk.

I made it there, pumped my gas, headed in to pay. As I opened the door, pulling out my wallet I heard someone behind me say, "Shannon?"

I turned around, recognizing the voice, and had to do a double take. A delivery man stood there beside a boxes of windshield washer fluid that had just been dumped off a trolley. It took a moment for my brain to figure out who I was looking at. Because the face that was smiling at me was one that I normally associated with the smell of coffee and the sound of a broom sweep or the chime of a door bell. It was a face that greeted me every day for 8 months asking me how my day was and if I wanted 'my usual'.

"Dave!" I exclaimed completely taken aback. Sure I'd run into him before, at the health food store, passing on the street downtown, or at festivals when his coffee shop would have it's mobile service set up.

Dave's corner coffee shop was the best little gem in our town. An old style cafe that few knew about. Two years ago when I landed my first job out of college, his cafe was the closest place for lunch to my work - other than a Chinese buffet restaurant. During my first week at the clinic I brought a lunch but ended up just sitting in the back room eating by myself, even the clinic cat ignored me. My second week, I decided to venture out and see what places were good.

I'd always seen his shop downtown. But it was a place that just sort of blended in with the background. Not that it never looked appealing, it just was a place I had never gotten around to going in to. So as I wandered over my lunch break I found myself entering the cafe with the ringing of a bell. An old man sat on a bar stool by the window reading the paper with his coffee, an oldies radio station played above, but otherwise the place was deserted. I hovered awkwardly, not sure whether I should leave or hang around. I pretended to browse the menu on the chalkboards while taking in the place. There wasn't really a way to explain it other than 'quaint' and 'homey'.

After a few quiet minutes where I wondered if maybe they were closed and I'd totally just barged in, a man finally came rushing up from the back room, wiping his hands on his apron. He smiled warmly, apologized if I had been waiting and asked what I liked.

I ordered and sat on a bar stool while he and his barista worked away, staring out the window people watching, every so often glancing at the newspaper the elderly man had left behind. He came over with my food and drink and made a comment about the headline on the newspaper beside me. I ate quietly as he swept the floors humming to some Elvis song that was playing.

I returned the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. The place was a nice contrast to my work, a calm in the middle of the daily storm. Dave properly introduced himself on the 4th day, seeing that I kept returning, and continued to bring me my order, comment on the newspaper headline, and sweep the floor.

At first, I thought they were just being pleasant for my business, but as those few days turned into weeks, the barista, Christine, soon memorized my order and Dave would lean against the counter and ask me about my day. With the chime of the door, I'd hear "Shannon!" as I waved in greeting. They knew when I just wanted to sit in the quiet, or when to strike up conversation or when to let me rant about work. I knew when to just breeze in and take a seat, when to wait out of the way when 20 construction workers would come in at once, when to open the door for that elderly man.

As my months working at the clinic dragged on, my lunches at the cafe became more appreciate escapes. Coworkers joked that I always disappeared for lunch - though on many occasions I recommended the cafe to them. Dave and Christine would notice if I was late working a shift, or remind me when my break was almost over. I learned about Christine's boyfriend and her dog, listened to tales of Dave's chickens, talked about art and food and pets. The three of us would sit and look out the cafe window, watching the construction site of the town's new library and made comments on how ugly the thing looked.

Autumn hit and I got a nasty cold, on the third day of being stuffed up and all around miserable, Dave slipped some vitamin c packets to me with my tea, saying he'd picked them up for me at the health food store that morning, 'oh and it's all on the house today, get well sickie'.

Autumn turned into the first nips of winter, Christine's car wouldn't start and Dave had to go help her, leaving me in charge of the cafe if anyone were to walk in. I sat there with my tea and my newspaper, complete emptiness surrounding me, and I thought to myself that it was just as warm and homey as the first day I'd stepped in, if not more so. Things weren't going well at my work at this point, and I knew my daily trips to this place may soon be coming to an end.

I was right as it turned out, and as the job finished I made promises of coming back whenever I could. Everyday turned into a few times a week, which turned into once a week which turned into whenever I had a chance to drop in. But every time, Christine still knew my order, Dave still delivered it, commented on the newspaper headline, and swept the floor.

Come spring, I was still jobless, Christine got engaged and the library was finally finished. That didn't stop us from still sitting there and commenting on how ugly it still was.

Life changes though, I kept telling myself to go drop in to the cafe, but circumstances never worked in my favour. Every now and then I'd bump into Dave or Christine and we'd catch up quickly, but even those occurrences eventually pittered away.

And so here I was, standing in some gas station, some one year later, not totally comprehending the circumstances.

Dave told me he'd sold the cafe and quit the business. Christine still worked there, but with the new owner. Dave opted for a new outlook on life and is currently working as a delivery guy. We only talked for a very brief two minutes or so, as he had to get back to work and I had to move my car.

The whole conversation was over too quickly and we both parted ways. I'm sure my shock was apparent and I came up short on what was socially acceptable, feeling incredibly awkward as I drove away. I also felt illogically emotional over what Dave had told me. Had it really been that long since I'd walked through the cafe's door? I thought back, and it had been sometime last July that I had stopped in there. Everything had seemed fine and stable back then, I wondered how much I had missed that led to Dave up and quitting. Surely not that much could have changed?

But that's when it hit me - I was the pot calling the kettle black. My life is nothing like it was last July. In fact it had been around that time that my entire outlook on life changed, my goals changed, and I changed. I'm definitely not the same person who used to walk into his shop everyday.

Of course life changes, and it changes fast. Sometimes without us realizing. It took this complete random happenstance of a run in for me to truly see that. Though I don't know all of Dave's story, I couldn't help but compare our situations. Working in the service industry can be hard and draining, but to customers and clients, we never show it. But when you reach the point where you don't find joy in your work anymore, sometimes you just have to hang up your coat...or sometimes your apron. It's not easy to leave a work placement that gives you job security and monetary stability, but sometimes you have to take the risk. It may mean you are unemployed, or have to go back to school, or pick up a job as a delivery man. But if you feel that even these little changes increase your mental well being, well then the world is yours to take.

I'm not sure if I'll see Dave again. I guess I always took him and the cafe for granted as always being there. I hope I do, and I hope I can thank him for his small part in that chapter of my life.

I think I'll pop in to the cafe this weekend, say hi to Christine, snoop out the new owner. Just this time I'll have to imagine listening to Dave's comments on headlines and his broom sweeping the floor.

"I never knew, just what it was, about this old coffee shop I loved so much" -  Landon Pigg, (Falling in love at the) Coffee Shop

This is not The Great Perhaps

"I go to seek a Great Perhaps" - Francois Rabelais

This is not a happy post.

I'm just going to flat out say that off the top. I pondered about even writing and posting this, but this is something I feel I need to get off my chest.
It is also me asking for help, because, I obviously can't handle this one on my own.

Here we are: A new year, a new beginning ...right?

When I came into the beginning of 2012 I felt rejuvenated. I felt free and optimistic about the future. My life had unexpectedly fallen apart at the end of 2011 and I chose to look at it as a fated opportunity. With the ringing in of the new year, would be the ringing in of a new chapter. I was terrified but also incredibly excited, and for the first time since I can remember, I had no plans. The world was my oyster and I felt energized to take it.

Fast forward a life-changing year of ups and downs and here we are entering another one. 2013 has chimed in with the usual lights and hurrah. It's been a few weeks now, but everyone is still running on that high of a new beginning. Out with the old and in with the new, as they say.

But what if you weren't finished with the old? What if you liked the old? We are always so eager to be rid of a year. That the next will be better. That it will bring bigger and brighter things. We reflect back on 365 days (give or take a leap year) of the good and the bad before tossing it behind us. There is a closure to the past where the door becomes locked and the key thrown away.

As the clock approached midnight on this New Years Eve, I found myself wishing that the universe would pull a "Groundhog Day" on me. That the clock would strike midnight and everyone would yell HAPPY 2012!! and I would mysteriously find myself back at the New Year's Party the year previously.

This thought surprised me. I didn't understand why I was longing to reverse to a time of such uncertainty in my life. I'm on a new path now, and I really love this new path... so, why don't I want to go forward? In these first few weeks of the year, this question has been bothering me. Nagging at me during any moment my mind isn't otherwise occupied. Why am I not excited about moving forward?

I've been feeling very melancholy lately. I've been dreaming of another time, another place. Sometimes from my memories, sometimes from my dreams. As the winter holidays came into full swing in December, I found myself not able to get into the holiday spirit at all. I wasn't a full out Grinch, but I definitely felt like I was walking around with a little cloud of bah-humbug hovering over my head. I pegged it on the warm weather and less than seasonable accumulation of snow. But, I knew at heart it wasn't really that. It was something else. Something that had nothing to do with my environment, but just - me.

I was the one that was off, not the weather.
But I brushed it to the side, I thought it was residual stress wearing off, I thought the feeling would pass with time. But as New Year's rolled around, I felt the same aching in my chest for something more. But what that something is - I have no idea.

I feel like I'm living two lives right now. The life where everything is happening: I go to school, I go home, I go out with friends, I go grocery shopping, I work on projects, I look for a job, I feed the cats, I repeat. In these moments I feel normal, I feel put together, I feel like I'm on the right track. Or at least a stable track if nothing else. And then there's this other part of me who is living a very different life...if one can even say that. More so, it is dreaming of another life. I imagine where I'd be if I hadn't lost my job, if I hadn't switched careers, if I hadn't moved back home, if I'd stayed in contact with more people, if I was braver to tell the truth, if I was more confident, motivated, inspired.

These aren't necessarily regrets, as much as they may sound like it. They are simply visions of what might have been. Sometimes I crave them more than anything, sometimes they give me perspective for where I really am today. But in some respects it still feels like I'm living this other life where these things are happening. A wise fictional wizard once said "Of course its happening inside your head... but why on earth should that mean that it's not real?"

I feel like I'm standing in a door way. Half of me can see a future and a presence of all of these opportunities and experiences, the other half of me is looking in a completely different direction - but I can't experience either of them fully because I'm stuck in this door way.

I've talked myself in circles about this. That I should just let it go, focus on what is real and happening. Live in the now and enjoy the life I am living. I've given myself all the talks...but I'm still grasping to this 'something else'. Even though I still don't fully understand it, I'm absolutely terrified to let go.

At the beginning of last year I decided to throw caution to the wind and chose to live life for myself.
This year all I want to do is curl up and hide.

So this is me, saying:
I'm scared, and I honestly have no idea what to do.

“Before I got here, I thought that the way out of the labyrinth was to pretend that it didn't exist, to build a small, self-sufficient world in the back corner of the endless maze and to pretend that I was not lost, but home. But that only led to a lonely life accompanied by the last words of the already dead, so I came here looking for a Great Perhaps, for real friends and a more-than-minor life.” -John Green, Looking for Alaska

You Can Be Happy, If You Let Yourself To Be.

I came to this realization a little while ago.

It’s not earth-shattering, mind-blowing, or life-altering; but I believe it is something we often forget.

We always hear phrases like Don’t worry, be happy or Smile today or Pass on happiness, but we all know, sometimes it’s just not that easy.

Sometimes you just don’t feel happy. Sometimes you just want to curl up in a ball and just rot away until the universe implodes on itself. Sometimes that’s okay.

I’m not saying you have to turn into the crazy person who smiles at everyone and their mother on the bus everyday, but rather to just be happy in life.

Be happy with the life you are living. It may not be the ideal life, or the life you expected; but life is what you make it to be. Make it one that you enjoy.

I’ve struggled a lot, not with the feeling that I am unhappy, but rather with the feeling that I don’t deserve happiness. Why should I be happy when there are so many who struggle everyday?

Then I heard the phrase You can be happy, if you choose to be. I liked the idea, but the word ‘choose’ struck a chord. Choosing to be happy is not as easy as flipping a switch.

After thinking some more I liked the idea of allowing yourself happiness. That it is okay to smile, be optimistic, to look on the bright side of life.

By allowing yourself to open up to joy, the little things, the small victories; by changing your perspective of the life you are leading to a brighter one, you may just end up happy.

Life: A Novel

C. Shannon Hawke 2012

We are all authors. We are all writing the story of our lives.

From the moment we are born, we become the narrator, a setting is developed and characters are introduced. There is character development and growth, the plot thickens, secondary and tertiary characters are introduced. There are climaxes, twists, surprises. We are writing histories, tragedies, romances, comedies, fantasies. There is a beginning, a whole lot of middle, and inevitably - an end. We are writing a novel that will only be completed with our final breath.

But is that the end? Not necessarily. We live on through those who choose to pick up our dusty covers and take a look at the pages within. Our books will be passed on for future generations. Sure, pages will be ripped out, chapters will be extracted and edited, short summaries will be produced. We all become stories; some become novellas, others encyclopedias.

We are all writing our own story.

So, what comes next in yours?

"Hi...Is this thing on?"

Hello there bloggerverse,

First and foremost I should probably introduce myself and get that out of the way:

I'm Shannon, a 22 year old college-graduate-turned-university-student with no clue where I'm going in life. Ain't we just off to a great start already. In 2011 I graduated college as a Veterinary Technician, and after a series of unfortunate events found myself rethinking my entire outlook on life. One year later, I am back in school majoring in 'Media Studies for Social Change'. If that isn't a pendulum swing of interests, I don't know what is. If the last year has taught me one thing it's that life takes you places you never necessarily planned on going, but that you should make the best of whatever uncharted path you end up on.

Though this blog is new, and it will take some adjustment on my part to figure out how everything works (aka bear with me if this place looks like a bit of a mess for a while), I am no stranger to the blogosphere. Between a long time follower of many blogs of many sorts, and being an active producer on your typical social media websites (facebook, tumblr, twitter, youtube, yada yada yada) it's actually a wonder it has taken me this long to finally get here.

So what's the point for creating yet another online account that I need to remember a password to? Why should you bother to keep reading my brain vomits? Well to answer the former, I feel every social media has a different purpose. Yes, there is overlap between each, but each can hold their own as a form of expression. The purpose of this blog...well I don't quite know yet. It's a place for my thoughts on life, news, and imagination, I suppose. A place to rant and rave, to muse ideas, to publish thoughts. And as for the latter question - well I guess that's up to you. I can't dictate whether anyone will be reading this but me, but I'd love if you'd join me.

To get things flowing, I may recycle some of my thoughts from other sites and documents of mine as we get started here.

I am excited for what's to come here,
and welcome to my little corner of insanity - I hop you enjoy your stay. :)

Shannon