gah!! in search for creativity...almost as difficult as my search for chocolate

i have nothing to blog about anymore other than my lack of things to blog about. i have no good stories! none! i mean, no one cares that i was kicked out of parliament, or that i dropped a banner in front of the CEO of RBC in front of all his corporate CEO buddies, or that i finally crossed the Canada-US border without being either questioned about the nuclear policy of my birth-country or being searched for hard drugs and being mistaken for a drug mule...nobody cares!

i have absolutely nothing to blog about. as i type i am in NYC, visiting my brother. for the weekend i escaped my incredibly mundane life in TO for a NYC vacation to visit my brother and search for blog-post-inspiration, and i have absolutely nothing!

thus i chose to compare my lack of inspiration to my current craving for a small piece of chocolate. just a little bit is all i want.

my brother bought three ferrerro rochers this morning, and instead of giving one to me, he ate two and allowed me a nibble of the last before he shoved the rest of the third chocolate into his mouth. he did not share. the garbage face was never a favourite on the playground.

the more i trace back the root cause of my current chocolate craving, the more i realize that it is because my brother has been spending the past three days actively depriving me of the things i love. not even the things i love...he will deprive me of anything he can

my brother goes out of his way to make sure that i do not get what i want.

Example:
I wanted to get a MUD coffee. MUD is a coffee brand typical of Manhattan's Lower East Side. My brother tried to convince me that there was a MUD coffee truck (it is served from a truck) around the corner. I have wandered enough around the Lower East Side to know this wasnt the case.
"No there isnt"
"Believe me. I live here"
"But I DONT believe you"

Giving into the physical force and shear whiny nature of my older brother, we continued to walk away from the MUD truck--both knowing very well that there was no other MUD truck and that the only reason we were not getting a coffee was because my brother was childish enough to throw a hissy fit outside the Astor Place subway stop. My brother had actively gone out of his way to make sure that i could be deprived of the simplest form of satisfaction. Now i will admit, that I was not prepared to hurt him over this issue, but i was prepared to complain. but if it has to do with something that will satisfy me--he is just always prepared to complain more.

I find the more and more i hang out with my brother, the more and more i am looking for little indulgences that can add to my happiness. Maybe it is because every time i come to NYC I:

• Am forced to find something vegetarian at a steak-house...which ends up in me eating meat (and in the most adventurous of times it has been to go as far as to eat raw beef)
• Walk with him to his office on a weekend so that he can pick up a file he forgot to put on his USB key--and then proceed to watch him google his name and read up on which economics-blog has mentioned him
• am reminded about how he is always right merely because of the fact that he is not allowed to be interrupted while he is making his argument, and i am simply not allowed to finish mine
• Told that i am too fat and that i should wax my mustache and that i should wear deoderant--all comments that would make someone feel like a sasquatch
• have him either rub soapy hands on my face, brush my face with his tooth-pasty toothbrush, or flick his snot at me
• end up being grumpy because of all of the above

I need to sneak in any form of satisfaction because i know if my brother finds out--he will get in the way!

Now there is the coffee example, but are there more examples of how he is in fact expending more energy than he would otherwise, just to make me grumpy?

Let's explore:

• He would ask for bacon bits on a salad, knowing very well i am not a fan of bacon (he actually only did this when i was a vegan...now that i eat meat, he will always recommend a vegetarian restaurant)
• He will have googled his name 10 seconds ago, and still insist that we stay and google his name...again! and then google-image it
• He wont just say "You need to lose 10 pounds and you need to wax your mustache and you need to wear deoderant," but rather he will wait till we are at dinner with all his friends. Then he will smell my armpit and then he will YELL the aforementioned quote
• Now COME ON! Seriously..it is easier for someone to just wash their hands, brush their teeth, or just simply pick their nose than it is to take the effort to open the bathroom door, walk down the hallway, pass the living room, and open the door into another room to bother your sibling

I dont even know what to say to people when they ask "are you close?" Well i wouldnt rub a pasty toothbrush on just anyone's face!

But then again, i wouldnt really do that to anyone

So while i still crave chocolate, i am also still sitting in frustration, thinking that the only reason i really want chocolate is because i have been deprived of enjoying anything this weekend. when we go to a restaurant my brother will always order two things because he cannot decide what he wants. so "we will get two things and split them, okay?" We will not be able to hang out with my friends because we have to go to a "boxing" party. We will not leave the house unil 3pm because he will wake up at noon and then insist on going to the gym, as well as taking about an hour to get ready for the gym--which requires nothing more than getting your shoes and t-shirt: "But i have to look for my GYM head phones...i dont want THOSE head phones."

If only he gave me the entire last ferrero rocher as opposed to 1/4 of a ferrero rocher i wouldnt be so grumpy. Maybe if he let me have a cup of coffee, i wouldnt be so grumpy. maybe i would be able to focus on writing a blog post and being creative, rather than focussing on how much i am craving something from a latin american BEAN!

BAH!

losing dimensions

as i have been writing less and less about myself, i find i am writing more and more about climate change. i have written several blog entries, but all related to climate change, and none realted to my life. Is my life no longer interesting? Or maybe it is just that my life is (get ready for cheese) being involved in the climate movement.

I am trying to think of how i can continue to make fun of my friends and family, but as soon as i do--my mind just becomes filled with issues of Canada's lack of climate policy and action on climate change; and safeguarding human rights; and protecting people within its own geopolitical borders as well as people outside; and shutting down the tar sands; and committing to science-based emission reduction targets; and passing a bill that would be the closest thing to climate policy that the country has ever seen; and protecting Canada's northern communities, and other marginalized communities such as indigenous peoples, rural communities, island communities, and coastal communities; and how to lobby our elected officials; and ....breathe....and listening to the many messages left on their answering machines, and

oh dear lord...

SEE!

Anyways...if you are interested at all in the Canadian Climate Movement...please start by visiting some of the websites above. Until then, i will be a one dimensional climate kid...

dear sasquatch...are you ignoring me cause im a beatnik?

Dear Sasquatch,
Please stop ignoring me.
Love,
-maryam

I went to my first Poetry Slam tonight. For those of you who do not know what a poetry slam is, it is a poetry contest. But since poets make very little money and the only way they can validate what they do is by being creative and using their poetic license--thus an average "contest" becomes a SLAM!

one of the lovely parts of the evening, were listening to the guest poets from Vancouver. these vancouverites made me feeel very at home. their poems were much funnier than the torntonian poets (which were much more dark and disturbing...more on that later). for me, this gave them more legitamacy as poets......it was as if they were not afraid of being HAPPY poets. they were so comfortable in their identity as poets that they could break the norm of being the "disturbed, beatnik poet" and could bask in the fact that they were HAPPY doing what they ENJOYED. i think the toronotian poets were still a little unsure of their poetry selves and felt that they needed to really fit the beatnik-mold and pretend they were unhappy before they would be able to admit to the rest of the world that they were generally content with their lives like the rest of us.

dont spread your negativity with US! blame your parents for giving you a generic childhood of playing in the streets and eating peanut butter jelly sandwiches. now i want to hear about a poem about a generic childhood!! (my attempt later)

now when you hear real poetry (and when i mean real poetry, i mean the general poetry you hear which is from beatnik posers who are not comfortable being poets and writing poems that are about being HAPPY) you will usually hear poems about their shitty life, death, love, or a broken heart.

Their shitty life:
Poets are ALWAYS suffering. Apparently their lives always suck. But i still feel like they make their lives shitty as a form of inspiration. Which gives me an entirely new outlook on self-deprecating writing. I mean....i thought i was a self-deprecating writer...but these guys REALLY put themselves down. yeesh. Oh...and poets also tend to live in the shittier parts of town. they use it for inspiration. which is ridiculous because why would you live in a shitty part of town and then go and make it your proffession to talk about living in a shitty part of town? wackos!

Poems about death:
Often include a gun. If the poet is not talking about suicide, they are probably talking about murder. Or they are talking about hell. Or the devil. These poems also often include drugs, most commonly crack or cocaine. Occasionally they will involve marijuana. this is rare, and mostly used in conjunction with one of the other substances and will usually only be mentioned if there is an allusion to abuse of the substance. alcohol...like marijuana, too common to be mentioned, thus will only be mentioned if the poet is alluding to an alcoholic (or being that alcoholic).

Love and heartbreak....
How can you tell if a poet is going to talk about love or heartbreak?
dude=love
dudette=heartbreak

Now before i go further, i will mention that when poets talk about love and heartbreak it is more often than not, heterosexist/heteronormative. Which is very interesting, because poets are progressive almost all the time. In most poems (be it about whatever topic of suffering) will often include satires on politcs, race, religion, etc. They will push the envelope on every controversial issue BUTTTTTTT....guys still like girls and girls still like guys.

Dudes talking about love:
they always compare their lady to an innanimate object. you think they would be original and use their poetic license to talk about something beautiful (you know, conjuring up images of love and whatnot). you think they would write poems that they would want to read to this special womyn. you would think that they write poems that make us swoon, and make us feel loved. you would think that they would write poems that make me look into their eyes. you would think that they would write poems that make me feel unique. well if you want to do all that, stop comparing me to toast!

Dudettes talking about heartbreak:
holy shit! dont mess with these ladies.

Now what are the kind of poems that I would write? The poems like the poem above:

Dear Sasquatch,
Please stop ignoring me.
sincerely,
-me

If i felt incredibly strong about this topic, i would make it a haiku.

So, i know what you are thinking: "maryam, why are you making fun of girls who write about heartbrake, and you yourself are talking about heart break?"
Well...since i am not really in love with Sasquatch and i am making a joke, it is okay. And since i am generally a content person, i will write about my generally content life:

This poem is called: maryam's generic life (insert beatnik snapping and hipster clothing)
When i was five years old my mom gave me multivitamins and i questioned her.
Why was she feeding me the vitamins and minerals i needed in pill form?
i questioned her. i questioned her but only in my mind
only in my mind-for i knew...i knew
that IF i said those words to her face she...
would question....
me....

She would question why i asked and what was my concern
she may even stop giving them to me so that i would stop yapping in her face
and i didnt want her to do that, to change her normal morning routine,
to change her behaviour towards her son and me
to change....
to change.....
to change herself
NO
i didnt want my mom to change herself

she already had so much to think of. and then she would tell my dad and he would worry
he would worry that i may doubt the way they were raising me
or maybe that i would doubt society
or maybe that i would doubt the fact that our pharmaceutical companies are making us injest all these vitamins and minerals so that we can later get tested by a doctor who tells us we dont have enough of a certain vitmain and/or mineral and then makes us go to another doctor who makes us buy bottles of vitamins and minerals and then...
and then....

breathe....
before....
they send you...
to...

a naturopath

but now you have a naturopath giving you pills
and then you are no longer questioning your mom and dad. and you forget how to doubt because by that time the pharmaceutical companies shove those pills down your throat you are too far in to "the system" to think for yourself

but i knew that my parents would never send me to a naturopath...
so i never questioned

END SCENE!

**now lets deconstruct what makes this stupid story a "poem"
1. lines are different lengths and there are at least TWO run-on sentences
2. there is EMPHASIS on certain words (somewhat randomly)
3. it makes my life seem so drammatic
4. i speak of my parents as if they ruined my childhood, giving me legitamcy within the poet world

snapsnapsñapsñapsñap........

***note: the ñ were inserted because now I have poetic license :)

people suck...generally....

I have always wanted to blog about my life in retail. I don’t know how to organize it, so now i am just gonna rant. Have fun!

people are:
1. weird,
2. douche bags
3. not funny, and
4. want to be unique
You are reminded of this every day you work in retail.

I never understand why they think that my being attached to a cash register automatically puts me in the roll of that person who will:
1. Entertain them
2. Listen to their offensive crap
3. Laugh at their awful jokes, and
4. Ooo and aaahhh at everything they say

Weird:
“Hi, are you going to be mad at me like the other girl?”
“Huh?”
“Last time I was here, the girl got mad at me.”
“Okay.”

Let’s analyze the situation and why this conversation is so unbelievably stupid. In fact, I actually think several seconds of my life went by and I am not going to get them back. This situation is so stupid because I have absolutely no idea what he is talking about, who he is talking about, and if he is trying to entertain people and crack a smile out of complete strangers with a line like this, he really needs to re-evaluate.

Douche bag:
“Cold?”
“no, why?”
“your hat? Why are you wearing a hat.”
“Oh..i haven’t showered in a couple of days.”
“What? Are you some sort of hippie?”

Now let’s analyze this situation:
I say “Yes, I am a hippy,” and i glare at him. He feels awkward and i continue to be grumpy.
He says, “No,” and i glare at him. He feels awkward and I continue to be grumpy.

Both situations end with my feeling grumpy. This dude is a jerk.
If he doesn’t feel awkward, then he is a bigger jerk.

Not funny:
“Oh, you cannot scan the item? It’s free!”
There are so many reasons that this is not funny. Mainly because i hear this every day, and also because the reason is not scanning is that this moron decided to pick the ONLY one without a tag. Thanks! You know that i am not just going to give you the item! If you rip a tag off a t-shirt it is not free! When you rip a sticker off an apple, it is not free! Your joke sucks!
Want to be unique:
“So, I am going to Mount Kilimanjaro......” (Pause where they expect you to ooo and aahhh...)
silence
“and i need a blah blah blah excessive unnecessary item that i really DONT need but am using my trip to Kilimanjaro to say that i need blah blah blah”
“Okay...well, i don’t know exactly which one would be the best for you because i have never been to Mount Kilimanjaro, but if you want to ask someone who may care you should ask those 10 people over there because they are also going."

You know what would make you unique? If you offered me oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookies....MY FAVOURITE! THANKS! Going to Mount Kilimanjaro does not make you unique. It is like going to lingerie store and saying you are looking for something "sexy for your boyfriend." What does someone say..."oooo...boyfriend..."

get over yourself

booby blogging

When you walk into Mountain Equipment Co-op, you never want to admit to them that you cant tell the difference between a kayak paddle and a canoe paddle.

When you go to a hair dresser, you do not want to admit to them that sometimes you wash your hair with soap and that you do not even own a hair brush.

When you go to lululemon, you do not want to admit to them that you do not wear their apparel to your yoga classes, and that you only own one thong that you only wear on laundry day (which means you will only wear their pants on laundry day or dread the social crisis of panty lines), or that you are actually not going to purchase anything in the store because the bright lights make you dizzy.

And when you go into a bra-fitting store, you do not admit that you only own one bra, it doesn’t even fit (and you know that), and you have refused to go bra shopping because you know what an excruciating ordeal it is to actually find one that fits and doesn’t make you feel like a sixty-year-old who is just looking for something comfortable.

Now why bother going to a special bra-fitting store?

I was convinced by a former housemate who told me that 90% of women wear bras that do not fit them, and that when you have a bra that does fit, it feels as though someone is holding onto your breasts all the time. Hmm...thats nice.
“Well..I have a pretty good bra,” I tell her. “It feels pretty good...i think i have a perfect fitting bra.”
“I bet you don’t,” she responds.
“Well, how is it supposed to fit?”
“It is supposed to fit like this (insert extremely long explanation of how a bra is supposed to fit here)”
“Yeah, my bra totally fits perfectly!”
“I don’t believe you. Let me see.” She then grabbed my shirt and looked down it. i stood there uncomfortably as she compromised, “hmmm...i guess it is not so bad. But when you are in Toronto, you should go get fitted...that is where i got fitted.”

So a month later I moved to Toronto and my perfect fitting bra fell apart because it was about 7 years old (also never admit the age of your bra to a bra-fitting specialist or your girly friends...apparently it is gross or weird or smthg..i dont know). Fortunately for me I had one other bra at the time. Unfortunately for me, that bra was black (making it particularly awkward under all of the white shirts I own) and it did not fit (making it particularly awkward under everything else I own). I finally went to the bra fitting store. I was mentally prepared for the ordeal and I set aside an entire morning.

Now, for those of you who have never been to a specialty bra store, let me set the stage. The cheapest bra you will find is about 60$ and the most expensive bra is probably more expensive than a wedding dress. The people who work there know a lot about bras. EVERYTING! They will speak to you as if they themselves follow bra-ness as a religion...and i bet they don’t! They told me to pack my bra in a Tupperware when i am travelling. Good idea to maintain the bra’s lifespan...but seriously, how practical is that? Also, the people who GO to these bra fitting stores are not usually common proletariat like myself. I showed up wearing sweats...I went shopping in sweats! That is just not done. If you are going to walk into a small, specialty boutique, you must dress as if you belong in a small, specialty boutique. I do not know how to best communicate my sentiments to this social construction...other than, FUCK YOU!

The first time i went to this bra-fitting store, I went to get fitted and to try on a bunch of bras so that i could really understand how a bra is supposed to fit. I spent about an hour and a half trying on bras, and i left without buying a single one because they were all way too expensive. I cannot afford to spend that much on my boobs. I planned on learning everything i could abour perfect bra-fitting, and then going to La Senza (the proletariat/people´s bra shop) and buy a cheap one that fits. I would turn to the staff and say let them no that after so graciously spending 90 minutes of their day with me (working on commission), I appreciate it.

(As if someone´s “appreciation” is more satisfaction than a larger number on your pay check)
...for those of you who have never worked on commission....ITS NOT!

Anywhoo..since it had been a few months since my last bra fitting, i felt that my body had changed a little and that i may be a different size....

So i went to this bra store for the second time. Again, wearing sweats.
“Have you been here before?” she kindly asks me—even though she is thinking (duh, she has never been here before...i bet she doesn’t know the difference between padding and push-up! Ugh. And she is wearing sweats.)
“Yes.”
“you HAVE!?”
“Yes. But you are not supposed to question that...you are supposed to say, ‘okay, let me pull up your file.’” (yes...they keep a file on you. They know your size, which bras you purchased/liked, or which bras you put on your “wish list” ..it is a weird sort of bra-registry).

Wait...i wasn’t that snarky...

“Okay...do you have a file?”
“Yes”
“You DO?” I wonder why she was so surprised...it was as if i didn’t have boobs or something...? “Okay...what is your last name?” I told her my last name and she proceeded to look through their database of clients. They couldn’t find me....i totally knew they would delete my file after they found out i wasn’t gonna buy any of their overpriced bras.
So we did the fitting all...over...again.....
Ugh. I jumped into a fitting room and the lady followed me in with a tape measure and asked me to take off my shirt. I don’t understand why i willingly put myself in these vulnerable situations.
“You are a 32D”
“What!?”
“That is right..i will go find a bra that fits....” Please note that these bra shops are not your typical lingerie store. They are more like bra museums, or bra archives. There are only a select number of bras on display. The rest are in their basement/magical warehouse of bras. They bring YOU what they think you want/will be comfortable in.
“nonono..hold on....are you sure you measured MY boobs...i mean...i know i felt the measuring tape...but i don’t think that is right.”
“Umm...yeah it is.”
“But that wasn’t my size last time.”
“Your breasts and bodies are always changing.” Oh....so THAT is what puberty is all about... She continues, “Was that a long time ago?”
“No.”
“Well...how about I bring you some bras and you can try them on.”
“Sure. But i would prefer if you brought me a bra that fit! Considering you have all the control over which bras I actually get to try on.” I felt even more vulnerable. She had the future of my breasts in her hand...if only i had access to the depths of the bra basement!
The first bra she brings...
“This should fit.”
Should it? Give me access to your bra basement, bitch!
After bringing me an array of bras, we finally found a suitable bra that fit. Yay!
“Yay! Thank you very much. I appreciate (key word that indicates you are not actually going to buy the $300 bra in your hand because it is larger than your last pay check) your help!” I held the holy bra in my hand and folded it up how i usually fold my bra, efficiently and neatly as she asks if i know how to take care of my bras.

“Now....” i sensed the tension in her voice, “you never want to fold your bra that way.” Aaaa...i just performed bra-sacrilege! She gently took the bra from me as if i had proven that i was no longer worthy. “And I assume that you only hand wash your bras...”

Why would you assume that? Just simply because i walked in here? Eff no...i shove my bra in the washing machine like the rest of them....but i nodded my head kindly to make up for my previous wrong-doing of bra folding. She then continued to talk about bra-care and i continued to nod until i realized that i was actually thinking about how if i was Kelso from that 70's show, I would also cheat on Jackie...what a bitch! Oh right....drying my bra properly.

“So, now that we have found you a strapless, did you say you need an everyday bra?”

Oh dear lord..

We continued to talk about bras, and the number of ghasps that came from her mouth almost shocked me.
Even though I knew I should never have told her these things, in our coversation the following bra-no-nos came out:

-i do not hand wash my bras

-i will probably not hand wash the bra i buy today

-i only own one bra

-now that i have a bra that fits, i will probably stop wearing it and no longer wear my old bra that does not fit (bra-fitters truly believe you need many bras so that you can wear one bra while you tend to all the others....one bra is a definitely grounds for exhile)

-i wasn’t listening to any of the bra-care instructions

She carried the bra over to the counter, dissapointed as to the future of the bra she held. She looked at me with discontent, "have a great day and i hope you enjoy your bra." She then walked away closing her eyes as if she were trying to hold back her emotions...

I held my head down in shame behind her.

why i have the best friends in the world!

I love my friends because they always reading my blog. Just kidding (no i'm not)...but i do love my friends.

I have had a couple people approach me about my sixteen-year old crusher excerpt posted recently. I apologize for the cryptic post, and I know that everyone wants to know more...but...a few beers will do the trick. some of these stories are better verbalized than articulated on the interweb. One of the responses from this post was from my dear friend John who has also gotten upset that i:
a) didnt let him post on my blog
b) was featured in a post that made him look like a giant moron because he told a waitress i would not be having any desert because i "just gained a belt loop", and
c) recount stories about us that always make him look like a loser and me look amazing

I am featuring him again...because his response to my post was awesome. John, you are awesome...so i decided to feature you in a post that makes you look like less of a d-bag

From John:
"BTW - I love your blog post about the teen who has a crush on you. how is that going? I think that at a minimum you should require that you sit down with his mom and make sure that he doesn't misbehave. you just want to make sure that everyone's expectations are clear. this could be difficult. are you going to have to make sure you get him home before his bedtime? will you have to go to all-ages bars? will you have to hang out with his awkward and pubescent friends? what if his voice cracks when he is trying to serenade you? what if you are having an intense discussion and you use a word that he doesn't understand because he hasn't taken grade 12 english? what if you want to buy him clothes as a present... will you have to buy him something that has lots of room for him to grow into? what if his allowance isn't enough to take you out for dinner? I think that's another thing you'd have to talk to his mom about."

Yes..these are all very common concerns. I have lost many minutes of my life to thinking about them.

Dear John....what DO i do?

what do you do when a teen has a crush on you?

what do you do?

now i dont think i am ageist...but i do think i require a guardian's signature.

and while i could sit down with this individual, i am just not going to. probably because i dont have a printer to print out the parental waiver.

that being said, i have been trying to overcome a personal challenge: blogging about this situation.

i really really really really want to blog about this and it is really really really difficult to resist. the stories would be really really really funny but if you were that person you may be really really reallly crushed by reading the blogs. and the problem about this person's being crushed is that it would make my life really really really awkward. but the good thing about my life being awkward is that i would have soo much more to blog about.

so....we have two scenarios:

1. i blog about being the crusher, my encounters get more awkward, and i blog more about my increasingly awkward encounters with the crusher. people laugh, i laugh and become a regular poster on fmylife.com

2. i dont blog about the crusher, my encounters have standard awkwardness ratings, and i spend the time i could be blogging (and posting to fmylife.com) by a) doing something meaningful, or b) napping

since i love napping and doing meaningful things (but will probably end up napping anyways) i am going to opt for scenario 2.

now, what makes me think that this person will definately find my blog? because some teens have A LOT of time on their hands. and i know that most teens spend their free time (which they have A LOT of) on the internet and stalking their crushees and on the internet stalking their crushes. THAT is why this person will find my blog.

fmylife! i feel so censored!

so that is why some people hate planes...

ever since i can remember, my mom has been afraid of flying. the moment the plane begins moving away from the gate she will turn to me, "are you okay? you sure? its okay, maryam. don't worry." what began as frantic undertones always overpowered any sense of motherly tenderness that she tried to express through her words, but her actions did more than anything. she would put both hands firmly on the armrest, sit back upright so that every vertebra was glued to the back of her seat. she would look up to the sky and start taking long deep breaths. she always hated being off the ground and hated flying. i am slowly learning that she has passed this hatred of flying onto me.

i hate airports! a lot!!! sometimes i feel that they (the system, big brother, THE MAN.....whatever you decide to name the big bad airport gods) put all of the rudest, most uncomprimising, and bitter people in one building. Then they folded them in with incredibly stressful situations. They also didnt forget to put in a tablespoon of long line-ups, overpriced coffee and trail mix, and duty-free shops. then take that mixture and sautee it in long security line-ups, metal detectors, provisions on everything you can and cannot put in your carry-on and/or check-in baggage, and a union of airport staff paid to catch 23-year old persian girls from trafficking drugs and bringing in illegal arms to hijack a plane (good to know my tax dollars are going into catching real criminals)...and there you have it...your base for an international airport.
To add your own icing on the cake for personal flair:

-totem poles in Vancouver

-scottish plaid in Halifax

-inconvenient ground transportation in Toronto

AIRPORTS! YEAHYEAHYEAH!

i dont really know exactly what made me hate airports so much. it may have begun when i was 16 and they wanted to put me in a room to "take care" of me when i was travelling alone. they made me sit on the airplane until all the "real" passengers had left, and they escorted me out along with an 8 year old. or maybe it was when they tried to lift my arm to search me when i physically couldnt lift my shoulder because i had just had shoulder surgery. or maybe i just had enough when the customs officer accused me of carrying drugs when he found an unmarked sudafed tablet (even though i told him it was the morning after pill...or did i tell him it was to prevent STIs? whatever.....i made him feel uncomfortable nontheless). i dont know what it is...but i hate flying..and it is because of the airports.

i havent been in an airplane since the end of february which, for me apparently, is a long time. i had to fly to ottawa for work (dont ask..they refused to send me by train which has a much less harmful affect on the upper layers ..and most sensitive layers... of our amosphere, not to mention a form of travel with less securitymeasures) and so i was quickly put back in the aerosphere.

i was flying porter air...which was a new and semi-pleasant experience. they made most of my travel very painless (other than the security of course). Free coffee, wine, chocolate chip cookies, juice, pop, biscotti, pretzels, cappuccinos, lattes, AND veggie chips....all freee and unlimited!! WOW! now that is amazing!! All fun and dandy! yes... i think porter air is far superior to any other airline; however, you still need to use an airport...so it still has a loophole. (nothing is THAT good to be true!)

It started at the checkout counter.
"Hi, how are you?"
"Very well thank you."
"Where are you flying to?"
"Ottawa."
"The 615pm flight?"
SHIT! 615pm didnt sound familiar. This is bringing me back to the time I showed up at a ticket counter just to find out that my flight left at 715AM and not PM...effin 24 hour clocks.
My jaw dropped and i gave him my typical please tell me you are effin joking look.
"Or the 730pm?"
Thank goodness!
"Yep."
"Okay, now do you have any..." this is where the people at the counter take a large breath and a puff of their inhaler if necessary--"sharp items, narcotics, alcohol, liquids, gels, flammables, combustibles, semicombustibles, squishy items, fuzzy items, anything in semi-solid state, anything with barium in it, weapons, weapons of mass destruction, illegal items, illegal animals, invasive species...anything purple?"
"umm....yes. should i specify which category?"
"nope, just check it in."

That was not the actual conversation, but you get an idea for the level of ridiculousness...on a scale of 1 to 10 it is an "i swear to buddha!!"

I was all prepared to check in my bag with all its gelly and fuzzy items when i realized that i was stupid enough to pack my laptop. So i take out my laptop (for fear of those fuzzy items damaging my 600$ birthday present...expensive gift--cheap laptop) and realize i need to carry it because my actual carry in is a tiny little bag that fits nothing but my wallet and a camera..how unfunctional. thats right..i want to pack light, so i bring needless crap.

not dwelling on this. then goes security. now what gets me miffed is that i am getting searched very thoroughly when travelling between two cities i could bike between. give me some paniers and i would deal with the week-long bike ride before this sh*t anyday! i am instructed to take my jacket off, my hat off, my shoes off, my jewlery off (nose ring is staying IN or YOU are dealing with the blood and tears that make it look like only the left side of my body got a tooth pulled out), and to remove the change from my pockets and the iron out of the spinach i ate that day. i walk through the metal detector BEEP BEEP BEEP!! all the guards look at me and point with an angry and emphasized straight arm...GO BACK!!

FRANTICLY ....i put my hands to my head and with an upset look "im not a criminal, i just forgot to take off my belt!" i took off my belt, walked through.....spent 20 minutes getting ready to get on a plane...and entered the waiting room.

that is where i saw it....the cappuccino machine!!! the spotlight shone down and i elbowed a stuardess to get to the cappuccino machine before i could grab a second breath. i pressed the button and the heavenly humms came from the cappuccino machine. and there it was...a FREE cappuccino. dont things always taste better when they are free??

okay...so that last paragraph totally didnt happen!

What really happened: i walked past the security, grumpy that i was sillly enough to try to pack my laptop (as dinky as it may be) in my check-in bag. i saw the cappuccino machine and waited my turn in the linup of business-women and men waiting for their cappuccinos. i was the only one in their with a baseball cap and DEFINATELY the only in their with ripped jeans. i had character. i made my cappuccino in an attempt to fit in with all the classy-drink drinkers, and my cup overflowed. i casually picked up my cappuccino..after all..it wasnt my fault, and watched a lady walk by and clean it up. i pressed the same button as everyone else.

umm....what else happened...meh...nothing funny...i carried around my laptop while others carried around their briefcases. dorks!

the end.

i hate airplanes

things brake

Murphy’s Law says that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

Things that brake:
Bicycles
Cell phones
Hearts

My bike, my cell phone, and my heart all broke on one sad day in june....

My bicycle
Yes. I left a meeting and started biking home. I was wondering why the ride felt a little rickety. I looked down. I got off. I felt the tire. Tooottally flat. Ugh. I biked for about half an hour (on a commute that would usually take about 15 minutes) on a completely flat tire. I ended the day with a workout, a flat tire, and my arms crossed. My one means of commuting in the city was now damaged BUT salvageable. I decided that i would have to wake up a few hours early to walk my bike (1 hour) to work where I could purchase the materials to fix my flat tire, get help to fix my tire, and be on time for work at noon.

I spent about an hour changing not only the tube, but the tire for my bike. The tire was only 2 months old. It was shitty quality and overpriced. I bought a good tire, a new tube, and fixed my tire. i had a huge smile on my face but no time. Once I repaired my bike, it was time to begin my eight hour shift, which meant that i would have to run my errands during my hour-long break. These errands were to buy a new cell phone, and to eat.

I grabbed my bike from the bike room and started biking off. I felt something funny as i walked my bike out the room. I looked down and saw that my front tire (the one that i hadn’t spent the entire morning replacing) and noticed that my brake pads were hitting the tire because my tire was slowly coming off the wheel. This was so weird. I had never seen something like it. it was as though my tire was trying to escape. I brought the bike into the bike room, where, luckily enough, my friend Frank (a dude who works in a bike shop and who became my friend once he helped fix my bike) was there to help me out. He helped me fix my wheel as fast as I could so that i could quickly be on my way. By the time i left, I had 45 minutes to eat and get a phone.

Your cell phone
Yes. Phones and technology ARE fallible. who would hav thunk?

I watched my phone die in a matter of days. I spent about half an hour one day plugging, unplugging, and re-plugging my phone into different sockets, convinced that it was neither my phone nor my battery charger that was broken, but rather the shitty electrical wiring in my house. I finally came to the terms with my cell phones fleeting moments when i realized that EVERY house has shitty electrical wiring...and so there was nothing i could do except for find a fone which had never-ending battery life.

So i went to my closest Bell Service Provider, which i quickly found out does not provide you with any service. After telling me that they could not fix my phone because of water damage, they told me to buy a new one. Apparently there is a little sticker in the back of the phone near the battery that turns pink when the phone has suffered water damage (sounds like a fatal drowning accident), but i am pretty convinced that they sell the phone with the pink sticker so that by the time someone walks into the store showing any dissatisfaction with their phone, the Bell employee will be able to give them an easy answer. “Sorry, we cannot fix this because your warrantee does not cover water damage,” (insert nerdy voice between quotation marks...like really nerdy....like those people you stereotypically never wanted to be associated with in high school). “You could have just damaged it simply walking in the rain.” In the rain? Are you kidding me? Stupid phone companies should be prepared to have their customers going outside. I was shocked to hear that this was too much to ask.

All in all, i decided to skip all the arguing, the temporary phone, and the waiting for the phone to come back from the magical cell phone shop where it will sit for days without anyone looking at it, and to buy a new phone. I asked them if they could help me out by activating it while i went to get my lunch. “Of course, go get your lunch. When you come back your phone will be ready for you.” I also asked them if they could charge the price of the phone to the same account that my bills were charged to, which was my father’s business. (i know...im a lucky lady) “Sure, no prob.” Sweet! I was off to get my lunch and then i would bike back to quickly pick up my phone and then race to work for the rest of my shift.

I did just that. I biked to the falafel shop, ate my falafel, and sped back to the Bell Mobility SERVICE Centre. As i was biking back i noticed the same brake-pad-hitting-the-tire (tire-escaping-off-the-wheel...however you want to think of it) problem i had at the beginning of my lunch hour. I was in such a hurry i decided to bike through it. I heard the rubbing sound get more pronounced with every turn of the wheel. It began to sound more frantic and frantic as i biked through it. It was my tire coming out for hair with every rotation. I biked with more and more anticipation. The frequent rubbing sound became heavier and heavier. More stressful and stressful until finally, it popped. My tire popped in a quick, thunderous blast! The tire collapsed in a matter of seconds, the wheel hitting the ground touching every little pebble below it. What did i do? i continued to bike through it. I had to get to my destination. I biked quickly down Queen Street West without turning my head to notice every single pedestrian and even a cab driver turn their head towards the sound (me? ...embarrassingly). I had to pick up my cell phone and get back to work whether it was the third, fourth, or fifth tire i popped that day.

I ran into the Bell store sweating and with a give-me-my-phone look-of-hunger in my eyes. They handed me the phone. “That will be 135$” No no no nono....they were supposed to charge the price of the phone to my billing account so that i would not have to pay anything.
“What?”
“That will be 135$”
“Nono...you were going to charge that to my account.”
“Oh....I didn’t understand what you meant.” Umm...then how did you understand now? I just repeated myself verbatim. Idiots. “We don’t do that here.”
“Well, i would only know that if you told me that. it is your responsibility to tell me i cant do that. How else would i know?”
“I am sorry, but we cant do that.”
“Well, I cannot pay for this.”
“Um....we just cant do that for you.”

Then i realized what they were doing. I knew EXACTLY what they were doing. I work in the service industry...i definitely knew what they were doing.

Now for all of you who do not work in the retail/service industry world, when you get a difficult customer--the kind that say i want to return this, i want that, i want 30 of this why cant you do that, fix this, etc. etc.--you just repeat yourself.

For example:
“Can you fix this?” (a yes or no question...i.e. you should be somewhat mentally prepared to hear a “no”)
“No, sorry. We don’t have those specific parts.”
“Why?”
“Sorry, it is made by a different company so we do not have the parts.”
“So you cannot help me?”
“No, sorry. We don’t have those parts”
“But I am getting progressively more irritated! Why cant you fix this?”
“We just do not have the parts.”
now, keep the conversation going until the customer decides that you cannot change the truth.

They were doing this to me. They were repeating themselves to ME! so i decided to do it back to them!!

“I cannot pay for this.”
“Um...we are sorry about the misunderstanding. But we cannot charge the phone onto your account.”
“you should be sorry about the misunderstanding. But i cannot pay for this.”
“But we cannot charge this to your account ma’am”
“i understand you (said very loudly and slowly as if speaking to a foreigner) I cannot pay for this.” (as if the money would magically APPEAR)

I left the cell phone store without the phone and ANGRY! and UPSET because after having spent my entire morning fixing my back tire, i knew that i would have to spend my entire evening fixing my FRONT tire. i mean, do all the irritating people and events need to make their way into your life ALL ON THE SAME DAY??

Last broken property of the day....
Your heart
Not that popping both your bike tires and having a broken phone isn’t enough, i also had a broken heart.

I often say "love" and make a shape of a heart with my hand. (dont ask why because it is not important to the story) Now on this very day in which everything in my life was breaking, my roomate came up to me and said, “maryam, you better be more careful with your heart. I think you are getting lazy with it. It is beginning to look like a peanut.”

The one last thing i had intact was now broken.

thanks a lot Leigh, you really topped off this day!

apologies for not being as entertaining

Hey everyone, i know i have not been as entertaining lately...but i think this stuff is pretty important. The federal government is currently accepting Briefings for official hearings in Edmonton, Calgary, and Ottawa (and unofficial hearings in Fort McMurray and Fort Chipewyan). So i wrote a briefing and submitted it to Jim Bezan (Chair of the Committee on Environment and Sustainable Development) at Ottawa@jamesbezan.com

If you would like to send this briefing out, please feel free to do so...in fact, i encourage you to do so! Also, if you could translate it or know someone who could...please let me know! LOVE!

and more entertaining posts to come.....

___________________________________________________


Dear Jim Bezan (Chair of the Standing Committee on Environment and Sustainable Development):

There are many Canadian organizations as well as international organizations which are trying to show their concern for the expansion of the Tar Sands industry in Northern Alberta. My name is Maryam Adrangi and I am a member of the Sierra Youth Coalition Executive Committee, the Canadian Water Network’s Student and Young Professional Committee, and the Rainforest Action Network Toronto. I am among many concerned and informed citizens who believe that the Alberta Provincial government and the Canadian Federal Government can play a larger role in controlling the harmful effects of the tar sands industry.

Several reasons that governing bodies need to play a larger role in controlling the Alberta Tar Sands:

Issue: The expansion of the Tar Sands is jeopardizing the health and livelihood of people in neighbouring communities
· Communities living in the Athabasca watershed are facing water shortages due to the tar sands industry which uses, on average, 3 barrels of freshwater to produce one barrel of tar sands oil
· Natural Resources Canada states that tailings ponds created by the industry contain high levels of carcinogenic contaminants such as phenols, benzene, cyanide, and heavy metals such as arsenic. These contaminants are seeping into groundwater resources
· More cases of rare cancers are being seen in communities living downstream from tar sands operations, and federal and provincial governments as well as industry are refusing to believe it is due to the oil industry—yet there is no evidence/credible research to prove otherwise
· High levels of contaminants, such as heavy metals (mercury, arsenic, etc.) in water systems are threatening fish populations by showing mutations and birth defects, and are no longer available for human consumption and were formerly a large part of First Nations traditional diet.
· Deforestation rates have increased due to tar sands expansion, jeopardizing local communities’, particularly First Nations People’s, ability to maintain safe, healthy, and traditional lifestyles.

Recommendations
· That both provincial and federal government require that oil companies abide by the principles of free, informed, and prior consent when intending to develop on First Nation’s territory, unceded or not.
· That provincial and federal government address the adverse health effects the industry has on local peoples by having official hearings in impacted communities, including Fort McMurray, Fort Chipewyan, and Fort McKay
· That provincial and federal governments put a moratorium on further development of the tar sands until effective, clear, and transparent studies are done and made public (including methodology) to explore the link between human health effects and the environment



Issue: Market interests are given greater priority than Canadian Interests
· Alberta’s royalty rates remain among the world’s lowest, creating an optimal environment in which companies would want to expand their businesses, but discounting the profit that Canadian’s or the Canadian government could be receiving from the existing operations
· Neither the provincial nor federal government have regulations or policies in place to make tar sands expansion unappealing
· Almost all, if not all, proposals for bitumen extraction have been approved, and there is little demand for operational or fiscal transparency in the oil production process
· Over half of tar sands oil is exported to the United States of America, providing the USA with dirty oil at the environmental, social, and economic expense of Canadian citizens.

Recommendations
· That both the federal or provincial government increase their royalty rates, making the tar sands less appealing to industry, halting the expansion, but still providing economic revenue for Canadian governments as they shift to renewable energy sources
· That the government demand transparent reporting and fiscal accounting, and make these documents available to the public
· Both the provincial and federal government put a cap on the number of mining proposals approved
· That Canada reassess its national energy policy, calling into question its energy exporting obligations under the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and the Security and Prosperity Parnership (SPP) which will likely lead to more transmission lines and pipelines



Issue: The Alberta Tar Sands have large, detrimental environmental impacts to the Boreal Forest
· The industry requires that large amounts of Boreal Forest are destroyed, clear cutting vast amounts of old-growth forests and turning these areas into barren land with none of the ecological benefits provided by forests such as water and air purification, and soil stabilization
· The area of land that has been leased to oil companies could fit the entire Canadian Rocky Mountain Parks (about 9,000 square miles which includes Jasper, Banff, Yoho, and Kootenay) about six times
· Many oil companies spend a marginal amount of their budget on land reclamation, emphasizing the lack of concern for this part of the extraction process (“Syncrude, a leader in land reclamation, spent one-fifth of 1 per cent of its budget on reclamation in 2005.” Nikiforuk, 2008)

Recommendation:
· Both provincial and federal government must demand that companies spend at least 30% of their overall budget on land reclamation (as it is just as important, if not more so, than extraction) and ensure that they fully restore the land in 5 years. If they cannot do so, the company’s proposal should not be approved.
· Demand that oil companies show proper planning to not only reclaim used land, but to protect surrounding lands during the extraction process. If these plans are not in place, the company’s proposal should not be approved
· The federal and provincial government must carefully monitor companies’ progress on reclamation, fining companies which neglect regulations
· The provincial government, federal government, and oil companies must make their reclamation plans and operations more transparent so that citizens can ensure that companies are accountable.
· The provincial and federal government should find non-partisan contractors (not those financed by, hired by, or made up of members of oil and gas companies) to conduct environmental impact assessments including assessments of quality of soil, water, air, and plant life.
· Make these studies, including methodology accessible to the public



Issue: The Alberta Tar Sands are preventing Canada from meeting their Kyoto targets and from being a leader in International Climate Change issues
· Producing oil from bitumen can create up to 5 times more greenhouse gases than does producing oil from conventional sources, thus jeopardizing Canada’s ability to meet Kyoto targets
· Canada has spent over $6 billion dollars on climate-change programs for the last fifteen years, and has not met a single Kyoto target
· The Climate Change Accountability Act (Bill C-311) passed in the House of Commons requires the federal government to set regulations to reduce emissions by 25% below 1990 levels by 2020 (Canada’s original obligations under the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change), and allowing tar sands expansion would show the federal and provincial government’s neglect for their own laws, as well as their original Kyoto agreements, if this bill passes and becomes law.

Recommendation
· That Canada respect its obligations and agreements under the Kyoto Protocol and recognize that Tar Sands expansion is preventing Canada from meeting those targets
· That Canada show leadership in shifting to a new green energy economy by investing in the expansion of the renewable energy sector, recognizing the industry’s long-term benefits and potential to create more jobs than the tar sands industry
· Stop approving new proposals for bitumen mining and Steam Assisted Gravity Drainage (SAGD) operations in Canada
· That environmental justice and the right to a healthy and productive environment be enshrined in the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms


Thank you very much and I hope to hear soon

-Maryam Adrangi

craigslist and kijiji are a sham...

maybe they are not necessarily a sham...but they are definately not the best way to get rid of your apartment

as i mentioned in previous posts, my roomate and i have been looking for ppl to take over our sublet. People have been coming in for the past week, checking out the place, and not really liking it. And they should all get over themselves as opposed to giving ME crap that they have not found their ideal apartment. They talk as if they either want me to change the apartment or look for their's...not happening!

So to de-stress, i have picked up hot yoga. :) I was running out of my apartment with my bike and my yoga mat, struggling to hold every door in my path, of which there are many before i actually leave the building. I was finally at the last door when i saw two boys looking at the buzzers numbers of tenants. One guy pointed at me and yelled "VENEZUELA."

I looked over at him because he was pointing at me. but i had no idea what to respond to the dude's venezuela comment. "umm....no.." and i kept on hurrying, since i was really late and i knew i needed to flee the situation. "Colombia. Ecuador." No NO! Whats going on..wait..yes? Ecuador? aaa...why am i answering "yes" to Ecuador...i need to go to yoga

"DO YOU SPEAK SPANISH?" he yelled at me. ughh...."yes"

I slowed down and groaned. "do you guys need to get in?" i asked in spanish. 

"No, we are wondering if there are any rooms to rent in this building." The lightbulb went off.

"How long do you need it for?"

"Until August."

"Well...my roommate and i are trying to get rent out our place until august. Do you want to see it."

"YES," said one of the boys enthusiastically, as the other one looked both to me and then his friend and nodded. It turned out that his friend didnt speak spanish, but was actually brasilian. I showed both of them the apartment and spoke the entire time in spanish, barely keeping in mind that i was talking to a mexican who was doing nothing but checking me out, and a brasilian who nodded at everything and understood nothing.

They loved the place and said they would take it. moral of the story...posting on craigslist and kijiji dont work. Looking latina does. 

While i love these community sharing/shopping sites and feel that there are great benefits, i have received  A LOT of emails and responses to my postings. Some people are nicer than others. Today i received an email from someone who said i should "have the decency to tell someone that they did not have an apartment after i had told them that they did." In fact, i never told this bozo that he had the apartment.  I told him that we would give it to the first person that put down a deposit and signed the lease...then i became an indecent person. Well maybe YOU should have the decency to not assume that i spend all my time and effort worrying about YOUR feelings. And i can live with myself being indecent. he cannot. 

And showing the house is a completely different story. i have had a surprising number of guys check me out. i would prefer it if you looked at my face when i told you the rent was not negotiable, not my chest. and i am changing my fone number on june 1st.

its been too long, but not long gone (there is almost no point to this post)

so it has been almost a month since i have last posted, and to all of my faithful followers...i truly apologize. i did not mean to give you folk the impression that i have abandoned/forgot about you or my blog!

so love!

has nothing happened in the past month? is that why i am not writing?

do i no longer find humour in my banal life? is that why i am not writing?

am i so busy that i no longer have time for writing? is that why i am not writing?

i do not know the answers to these deep and profound rhetorical questions. Except that the answers are No, Yes, and I guess so...

Lets discuss shall we...

Has nothing happened in the past month? NO.
Of course stuff has happened. In the past month i have continued to couch surf and...its been quite an experience. Since the last post i have slept on my cousin's couch, my friend's couch, and my own couch. My roommate and I moved into a furnished apartment, but as far as beds go...we have one single bed and one futon. Both of which we used to call "sex-proof" because you cannot have sex in them without hearing very VERY loud and awful screeching in the other room. But in all honesty, it is not just that these beds are "sex-proof," but are more acurately, "inhaling-proof."

Along with moving into a new place in the beginning of May, my roommate and i also decided we wanted to move out of this exact place at the end of May. The apartment was just not up to our standards. My cousin even came with me before i signed the sublet lease to give me that extra clarity that you always need when househunting, but he obviously failed to provide it. What originally seemed like a clean, safe, well-priced apartment became a dirty (really dirty...probably the subject of a future post), small apartment with awful sublettees (or subletters? the ppl who subletted to us).

We then had to go through the stress of finding a new apartment for June-August, as well as trying to rent out this shitty apartment. Instead of using the internet to check out globe and mail and new york times, i now had craigslist and kijiji bookmarked...both of which failed to help us out in finding sublet victims to the dive in which we live (also topic of a future blog post).

Anyways...i could go on, but i wont. (wait for future blog posts)

I no longer find humour in my banal life? True
This is probably the result of my life being blasé (synonym for banal)

Am i so busy that I no longer have time for writing? I guess?
Oh geez! i have definately been too busy for writing. I have been too busy to sit down, relax, and just write. My time has been filled up with answering inquiries about craigslist, telling annoying house-hunters that i will not negotiate the price and that if the apartment is too expensive or not nice enough then it is OBVIOUSLY not what they are looking for. Im sorry that there is no double bed...i am not buying you one to put in the apartment. I am sorry that the door is really heavy...i am not gonna stand here for June-August and open it for you. I am sorry that you want to move in early...where do you expect us to go? And i really dont care about your issue with parking...i wish my bike lock wasnt so heavy. One guy condescendingly kept pressuring me to inquire about parking, telling me "that parking is a really big issue in the city, you know." Umm....its not AN issue..its YOUR issue. So get over it. Do you want the apartment or not? No? Okay, now get off my property and out of my face. Once you leave, Im gonna continue stealing free wireless and watching free cable. Ciao! And when i am done, im gonna hop over to a really cute street around the corner of my "cozy" apartment and sit out on a patio of one of the picturesque little cafes and drink a cappuccino and forget that you tried to ruin my day!

Maybe i do have the perfect apartment....

wandas pie in the sky....looks down on maryam and kicks her in the ass because of her awful manners!

mmm...wanda's pie in the sky.

Wanda's Pie In The Sky is a cute little cafe on Augusta Street in Kensington Market in Toronto. I recommend it to everyone. NOW magazine says that it has the best quiche in town. in fact, that is what i ordered when i went the other day. Now what does this mean:

1. That i was not vegan. I ate something very eggy.
2. That i didnt order their delicious chocolate almond cookies.

Last weekend was passover (cant eat unleavened flour as i have learned), and my jewish friend had a bunch of chocolate almond cookies (flourless) from Wanda's Pie In The Skys. I ate half of a cookie and WOW...it was a chocolate almond flavour explosion with a moist and succulunt texture. mmm....and covered in powdered sugar......

Anyways, i know what is good for me and what is not good for me. A quiche is often much healthier (protein and veggies and all that good stuff) and cookies are often considered "junk food (mainly because...they are)." One of the ladies sitting at a table beside me, however, had ordered a chocolate almond cookie. Every bite she took tempted me. (Normally cookies arent that temting...come on, a cookie is a cookie.....but these cookies were amazing). But lucky for me, she only took a few bites of the cookie...which means less tempting. or does it?

IT DOESNT ACTUALLY!

She offered some to her friend. I thought to myself how AWESOME it would be if she offered me some of that cookie.

Her friend refused the offer. Were they crazy? Did they not like the cookie? They were sitting down for 45 minutes and took two bites of the cookie....they could not possibly think of leaving without finishing the last cookie.

But then they left.

They left Wanda's Pie In The Sky.

The chocolate almond cookie stayed on the plate. And thats when i made my move. I casually looked around and saw that there were barely any people in the cafe. Then i swiped it. I took the leftovers of the cookie and i ate it. I hate food waste. and thats when i thought to myself WHAT THE EFF, MARYAM!! but i already had the cookie in my hand. so i ate it. and then i thought to myself OMG, MARYAM!! NOT ONLY DID YOU TAKE THE COOKIE AND SECOND-THINK IT. YOU ATE IT! YOU ATE SOMEONE ELSE'S COOKIE!! YOU COULD GET MONO FROM SH*T LIKE THAT (kissing disease without actually kissing....but stealing a cookie...your parents would be SOOO unimpressed) (wait, can you get mono from that??)

i did it.

i dont think i can ever go back to Wanda's anymore. I swear someone noticed. I think a server even noticed. how embarrassing. What was even more embarrassing is that the same server came by and cleared the table of the women's plates, but failed to wipe the table. Not only was i embarrassed, but out of the corner of my eye i could see the trail of icing sugar that lead from the plate from which i stole the cookie. i couldnt even turn my head...i knew it was there. The server left it there to remind me of my 'shameful' deed.

My own plate even had shame written all over it--the crust of the quiche (which i didnt eat because i decided it was TOO buttery), chocolate crumbs, and an explosion of icing sugar.

needless to say, if i learned anything from passover its not just that you cant eat unleavened flour--but also that anything that does not have flour (but typically would i.e. cookies) becomes exponentially more delicious....and to people of all faiths, apparently. chocolate, almonds, and sugar do not discriminate!

blog commenting

WHY DO PEOPLE NOT COMMENT ON MY BLOG!!

I KNOW YOU READ MY BLOG!!!

IF YOU READ IT AND YOU LIKE IT OR IF YOU READ IT AND YOU DONT LIKE IT OR IF YOU READ IT AND THINK TO YOURSELF ANY THOUGHT ANYTHING....WRITE IT!!

......my frustration with the lack of commenting on my blog gives me right to write that entire post in capital letters!

third time....some harm!

Sooo...we have had a break from Ecuador. Why? All the best stories come from Ecuador. So here it goes!

Since I was five years old, I had thought about getting a nose ring. They were so elegant and subtle. When i was 5 i asked my parents if i could get a nose ring, and they obviously said no. For things like this, my dad would always say something like “wait 5 years, and you will realize that you don’t even want it anymore.” I never really thought about it again until i was 23 when i woke up one day and my friend, Fin, asked “What are you gonna get up to today?”
“Hmm...i think i’ll get my nose pierced.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”

We left it at that and went on with our day. I told my argintinean friends that i was going to get my nose pierced, but that we should wait until some other friends got into town later that day so that we could all go together. “Está bueno, está bueno.”

I then texted Chantel and Martha, when you get here im gonna go get my nose pierced..the argintinean chicas will join us. I even went to the effort of telling my parents I would get my nose pierced, knowing very well they would not approve. I figured it was best to hear their disapproval over the fone rather than in person where they could stare directly at my nose and say safekh with middle eastern disapproval.

After having told my parents, getting them mildly riled up with their what the heck can we do-attitude (that all parents who have unsuccessfully tried to prevent their children from going to Ecuador always have) I had decided that i didn’t really want the nose ring. When Martha and Chantel arrived we didn’t go to the piercing parlour. We continued with our daily plans and even met up with our Argie buddies later that day. While all five of us were hanging out on a street corner, a very VERY pierced man walked up to us. “Peer-seen? Tah-tooz? Peer-seen? Tah-tooz?” Martha, Chantel, and I nodded our heads in a polite no-thank-you fashion which prompted him to move on, but the two Argentineans both pointed to me and repeated “Ella! ELLA”

I forget to tell the Argentineans that I had reconsidered the nose ring.

Next thing I knew this pierced and tattooed man was literally holding my hand (much like my older brother still does when we cross the street...a combination of you are safe and hurry the &**@ up) and dragging me to a store around the corner. I was immediately picking out a ring with four of my friends and was plopped into a chair looking at my naked nose. I sat in the chair, asking myself how I would recount this story to my parents.

“I got pierced by a carni off the side of the street. In Ecuador. For three dollars.” Hmmm...nope, better rethink that line.
“I got pierced in Ecuador. It was only 3 dollars. It was a deal! I HAD to!” ....nope, also bad.
“I saw them sterilize the ring before they jammed it with little mercy into my nose.” ....probably not much better.
“People barely notice it. It is so natural on me.” ...getting warmer.
“What piercing?” PERFECT!

So there you have it. They drew a blue mark on my nose where they would pierce me, then sterilized the ring with a cotton swab and some alcohol, and poke. Ouch. My left eye began to water and my left cheek was drowning in a manner of seconds. It was like my parents told me that my dog just died. But they told me while I had lost hearing in my right ear, and my body responded correspondingly. It was bizarre, but it hurt. It was quick, and happened while all of my friends were staring at tattoo designs. I looked into the mirror. "Guys, ITS HUGE!" It looked giant. It looked like it was taking over my nose.
"Maryam, it is tiny." (In hindsight, i do remember picking out the smallest little jewel possible--but it was such a shock. The mark they drew on my nose was even larger than the piercing itself)

We left. Now I had to endure an afternoon of shopping with Martha and Chantel. And my left side was still dealing with the trauma of its dead puppy. After about half an hour, the tears had dried and I was wiping my left eye. I lightly tapped the nose ring and “AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!”

Martha ran out of the change room half dressed and Chantel dropped the skirt she was looking at and joined me on the ground to look for my nose ring which had so easily flown out of its newly perforated nose. “Dónde está? Dónde está?”

I quickly found the ring, grabbed Chantel, and yelled “Martha, we will be back.” Chantel and I ran back to the parlour and I explained what happened.

The piercer muttered under his breath, thinking i was just a silly gringa who couldn’t understand him, “she shouldn’t have pulled it out.”
“I DIDNT” i yelled when i really wanted to say, “if you hadn’t done such a shitty job, this wouldn’t have happened.”
"Well, it is probably already grown over, let me see. Oh, it actually hasn't. Here we go..."
OUUUCH"!!!)("·JLKEJASLUD(DUas

I was literally off the seat from pain as the piercer grabbed my face and furiously jammed the ring back in my nose. I actually think it HAD grown over. Chantel grabbed my hand to steady me and we slowly walked back to the store to meet Martha. If all the stories of pain and shock weren't enough, Martha ALSO decided to get a piercing. We went to another piercing parlour to look at differnt studs for Martha's new cartiledge piercing. A young girl was already there, alone, and sitting at a chair. She had just had three ear piercings, and was getting 3 more. The poor idiot...there are only so many perforations a human body can take in one day. The last three were in the cartiledge. I offered her my hand to squeeze because of the pain and she took it willingly. The needle started going through her ear and in the middle of the piercing I started yelling "hay sangre, hay sangre!!!" There is blood! There is blood. I immediately let go. Everyone began looking at the girl's ear wondering where i was seeing the blood. Her eyes bugged out. She didnt feel any blood.

In a small mirror I had noticed blood pooling around the blue sparkle on my nose, and began looking around the tiny parlour for a tissue. "I need something to clean it." The piercer started yelling at who i guess was her assistant: "help her clean it. help her clean it."

After she had fully pierced the other girl, she came over to me, properly cleaned the blood off my nose and inspected it. "Oh, it is sitting on the surface. your nose wasnt fully pierced. Thats why it is bleeding."

WHAT? Did i just waste 3$ and a shit load of pain and nothing!?

sooooo.....................even though i had decided at one point in the day that i really didnt need a piece of metal on my face, i figured that if i had gone part way...i might as well go the whole nine yards.

so in about an hour and half i had gotten pierced 3 times. I was so pale after the third piercing, they didnt even let me leave the parlor for another 30 minutes after they were closed. They ran and got me water and candies to get my blood sugar up.

Now i had to rethink of creative ways to tell my parents what happened:

"mom and dad, i was dumb enough to get a cheap peircing in ecuador which, because it was so cheap, had to be redone twice in the same day." nope...i never admit how stupid i am to my parents. that would mean that their years of convincing me would have worked...i wont give in!

"mom and dad. i had my nose pierced three times...but dont worry...there is only one hole." :) Hmm....this one has a good ring (mind the pun) to it. They may react better to this one because of the element of humour...?

screw that....

"what peircing?"

My first book review (i feel like that expression should go on a mug)

I have written a book review before, but never have I done so voluntarily. And now, I have the desire to not only write a book review, but to do so when i have not even reached the half-way page.

So for my first book review, i have decided to review the book Stuff White People Like by Christian Lander.

Points to point out before I review:

I would like to point out the whiteness of the author’s name. The author is clearly a white person. This would probably make him the most appropriate person to write such a book. Most writers are inspired and influenced by their upbringing and their surroundings. This white person would clearly be a great candidate for writing this book because he himself is white.

I would also like to draw attention to the fact that I like many of the things that white people (apparently) like. This makes me white. Even though i am not white? Even though Lander deems me as “white”, after reading this book (or less than half of it) I am still middle eastern. This has several implications on my life: 1) my comfort food is still an Iranian dish that none of my friends can pronounce and that i cannot spell, and 2) i will still get pulled over at the Canada-US border and searched for...weapons of mass destruction?

Book Review: Lander writes about 150 things that white people like and why they like them. There are also many tips as to how to make white people like you more.

Most creative items on his list:

Number 2: Religions their parents don’t belong to. -> When i read this i remembered that i only have one friend who is a Buddhist. He is white and his parents are not Buddhists.

Number 11: Asian girls. -> I’m Asian! Where do you all think Iran is?

Number 16: Gifted children. -> Lander states that white people love gifted children because “100 percent of their kids are gifted.” This is SO true. I feel like everyone i met in university was in some sort of “gifted stream” unless they went to private school. I contrast this to my parents. My parents never thought my brother and i were gifted. I think they thought we were pretty average. Whenever we told them of an achievement of ours, they brushed it off. I was never sure if that was because they did not understand the extent of our achievement or if it was because they were trying to push us back down to average before anyone noticed.

Number 29: 80s night -> THEME PARTIES!

Number 65: Coed sports. -> Lander advises people to blend in with their surroundings (i.e. be as good as the sport as the white people around you). He says that “If you try to hard (bowling over a female catcher, throwing a kickball extra hard at someone), you come off as a crazy maniac.” This is true. I can say from experience. I was playing on a coed softball team and the short stop ran all the way into right field to catch the ball. I was right field and i almost caught it until i was—you guessed it—bowled over by the crazy maniac.

Neither of us caught it. I had a bruise on my left shoulder too. Jackass!

Lander also claims that coed sports are a great way to find a date. I definitely did not get a date, and the closest person i got to in softball was the guy who ran me over. Maybe it was my fault i didn’t get a date...i mean, giving someone the evil eye isn’t much of a first impression.

Vegans just wanna have fun-uhn!!! We just wanna, we just wannnuhhhh!

Disclaimer this blog is not outwardly funny, but rather is a commentary and a call-out!

This weekend was full of festivities as the Persian New Year came in full throttle. Unfortunately, most of the traditional foods of Nowrooz contain animal products. The only things that do not are the rice (which is delicious), and the cookies (i hope....because i ate A LOT of them....and they are the size of your pinky nail...who could resist?).

This got me wondering about the last time I was vegan and i celebrated a holiday which had traditional foods. Last thanksgiving, i had already been vegan for almost four months and was in the real swing of veganism. Don’t try to sneak whey into my diet, i would catch you and... be VERY upset with you!

Anyways...

That thanksgiving we had all the regular Thanksgiving items: stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, etc. And as for the main highlight of the meal: turkey for the carnivores (everyone except for me) and tofu for the vegans (that should probably not be pluralized). And for this special occasion, I whipped out my tofu specialties: Szechuan and Teriyaki! Everyone loved the tofu and it was gone halfway through dinner. I was so happy and proud! Even when everyone could have stuffed their faces with tofu, they chose not to, and opted for the animal-product-free product. Who wouldn’t be proud?

So if everyone loves vegan food...then why don’t people love vegans? I mean, Cindy Lauper always said: “vegans just want to have fun” (i would prefer if no one commented on my abuse of quotation marks). SOOO...there should be a holiday in which vegans can have fun and eat vegan food and have it be the traditional food of that holiday.

On that note...vegans and all vegan allies unite! Let’s make a day! Let’s make a menu! And
LET’S EAT!

**Please note that this blog post is soliciting comments

being vegan is phat (code for ...i am being a fat vegan)

I have always been puzzled by this North American taboo of speaking about weight. My Persian family spoke very openly about weight.

Maryam, you are too skinny
Maryam, you are too fat
You need to eat less
You have a round face...its nice...but not with that extra chin!
You need to exercise more

These comments (both very direct and not-so-direct) were thrown around my family residence growing up. So having Ecuadorean people overtly comment on my weight was not a shock to the system. My friends commented on my weight. My boss commented on my weight. My colleagues at work commented on my weight. And the dude I was dating even went as far as to say “maryam, you are heavy” (direct translation). He may have meant it jokingly, but I had never heard his tone be any more serious.

I find that in many cultures—many non-North American cultures—it is not taboo to comment on someone’s weight. In Canada, however, it is! And for that reason, when a Canadian overtly comments on my weight....

John, my bake-atarian friend, picked me up for dinner today. When he showed up I was hanging out on the couch in my ever-so-forgiving sweat pants, and I naturally welcomed him to take a seat. We brainstormed restaurants that would be able to satisfy his manly craving for meat and sports, and my forgetful craving for vegan cuisine.

We decided on a sports bar and i got up to get dressed. Realizing that I had worn the exact same outfit for the entire week, i decided to get into a different pair of pants. A tighter pair of pants. A tighter pair of pants with a different belt.

“John, I gained a belt loop since I’ve been here. This sucks! All this eating out!”

John continued to be his usual insensitive self, and push me towards the door so that we could eat out. We headed to Fanatics, where I knew he would just look at the TV screens airing hockey games* and that I would be doomed if they didn’t have veggie burgers...since that was the only vegan menu item i could imagine at a sports bar

To my luck, they did have veggie burgers, or as Fanatics named them the Tree-Hugger Burger. This struck a chord....not only does it typecast all vegetarians and vegans as Tree-huggers, but anyone part of a non-beef-eating religion now falls under the tree-hugger category. Sorry folks, but the sports bar in Kingston says you are a tree-hugger. They must be right. There is no possible way that you could potentially be vegetarian or vegan for simply journalistic-type reasons. NOPE! You are definately a tree-hugger!

If being surrounded by my carnivorous friend and hockey games (which i confess now...do NOT entertain me) was not enough, he decided to order an ice-cream sundae with a brownie. Since I had not declared bake-atarianism, I would not be able to join him in his deserting delight.

The waitress asked if she should bring out two spoons.
“Just one.” John knew very well that because of my vegan month of blogging, I would not be going for any desert, but that wasn’t how he came off. Now, not only was John the rude dude who brought the girl to a sports bar and watched hockey games the entire night, he also was the rude dude who didn’t share.

The waitress brought out desert and brought two spoons. “I brought two spoons just in case she wanted to sneak in a bite or two.”
“Oh no. She won’t do that. She just realized today that she gained a belt loop.”

WOW! Now mind the sports pun...but that TOTALLY came out of left field!**

I began laughing, knowing (hoping) very well that John was kidding. The waitress, however, was not present for my previous belt-loop comment. We looked over at the waitress to see her reaction. Never have I seen a more awkward laugh come out of such a charismatic person. She gave her puzzled smile and “heh heh” and fled the scene of the crime.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAH SHE FELT SO UNCOMFORTABLE IT WAS SO EFFIN HILARIOUS AHAHAHAHAHA

While the comment was made in good fun, and I wasn’t insulted....there were a few things that may have worked against John:
1. He ordered desert and made a point of asking for only one spoon (i.e. none for her)
2. He made sure that it was public knowledge that his dinner date had to tone down on the deserts.
3. He didn’t even finish the desert (i.e. there was clearly enough to share)
4. He asked for one bill at the end of the meal...and he didn’t pay it. (The conversation may have gone a little something like this “Together or separate?” “Together...and give it to her!***)

Every waitress who walked by the table gave him weird and funny looks.

“Maryam, I can never come back here now. They must think i am a huge jerk. We need to tip our waitress well.”

“You mean...i need to tip her well?”

Special notes (please read after the entire post)
*I didn’t actually think that all he would do was watch the hockey game...but he ended up watching it more than i thought he would...which still wasn’t that much
**We actually agreed beforehand that he would make some sort of belt loop comment...we wanted to see the waitress’s reaction
***The conversation didn’t go like that ...but it may have

Vegan challege number 3: overcoming bakeatarianism

I fear that this month of (hopefully) consistent blogging will get boring. I cannot constantly write about my food choices and random culinary temptations that cross my path. While on that note, i just want to shout out to all of my faithful blog followers (hi mom) that i will make every effort to make this blog exciting and action packed...and NOT repetitive!

What does this mean? It means that i can no longer write about:
1) My confessions of breaking the meat-dairy-egg fast on products that are not predominantly meat, dairy, or egg dishes
2) Products that i have purchased and am unable, like any other good saintly vegan, to consume (honey-flavoured-delicious goat cheese...wait delicious wasn’t on the package? it was just THAT delicious)

Now, let me take the opportunity to discuss number 1. This point was in reference to me breaking my veganism by eating a slice (potentially more than slice) of chocolate cake on my friend’s birthday. I confessed my vegan-sin to my friends after it happened and they were shocked. They were both under the impression that if i were to break my veganism, i might as well do so by eating something that more un-vegan. The idea that chocolate cake isn’t that un-vegan, is rooted in the fact that while chocolate cake contains both milk and eggs as ingredients, neither are main highlight/focus of the dish. The two that had heard my confession were disappointed at my actions and advising said that if i were to break my veganism, it should be by eating steak.

But giving up steak is not necessarily difficult. Steak doesn’t creep into my life whenever it can. Cake creeps up!

When you go out with your friends, when you attend a foodshare (commonly known as potluck), when you are at some random on-campus even that serves free food—there is often a vegetarian and vegan options (veggies, humus and pita, etc.etc.) but there are very rarely vegan cakes.

There are very rarely vegan cakes, cookies, muffins, deserts....and scones!

Why do i single out scones? Because the scone brought up a very interesting conversation i had with my friend John today. John ordered a scone today, and upon noticing how large it was he suggested that I have some. I kindly declined, “sorry...the blog.” We discussed the scone refusal. An interesting thing about baked goods is that unless there is vegan in the name, it is likely NOT vegan.

So here we have it kids....Challenge No. 3: Baked goods!

While that entire discussion about my afternoon tea-and-scone date may have been effective in presenting one more challenge to veganism, i bet many of you (hi mom) are left wondering....was that the end of the conversation?

NO!

John’s suggestion was that I stop eating meat, eggs, and dairy, but that i continue eating baked goods. We coined this term: Bake-atarianism. He suggested I be a bake-atarian and then blog about it. His argument was that baked goods were just too prevalent in our society for me to give them up.

“Be a bake-atarian, and then blog about it, no?” I looked at him with my usual john-i-am-not-taking-you-seriously look.

There was a pause

“and can i blog on your blog? No?”

It was as if he never wanted the look to go away.

Vegetarian Diary...yepp

Officially the worst hippy-pot-smoking vegan ever!

Why?

First day on the vegan job and i failed miserably. So miserably!

Challenge number 2 caught me off guard...i didnt think that i would actually be tempted to even touch the goat cheese. I was. and i did! I ate the honey flavoured goat cheese. I ate it and it reminded me of a sweet cheese cake....ugh ...the last minute reminder of temptation. why would i subjugte myself to that?

maryam, you idiot.

And then came the chocolate cake. I can sooo resist chocolate cake. I dont really like chocolate cake that much. In fact, i prefer pretty much any cake to regular chocolate cake with chocolate icing. But i had already gone for some of the goat cheese, so why wouldn't i go for the cake. But after one bite, i thought to myself...why not go for the long hual...and i ate A LOT of chocolate cake.

The vegan month is now going from the 14th to the 14th.

I pledge to not eat honey flavoured goat cheese for a month.
I pledge to not eat lactose-and-ovo-filled chocolate cake for a month.

....i havent even faced the challenge of giving up fried eggs! im so screwed!

the vegan diaries

I think i am going to begin being vegan tomorrow, because I am currently unemployed.
What is that you say.... being unemployed should have nothing to do with your diet? Correct...being unemployed should have nothing to do with your diet; however, it has plenty to do with your frequency of blog posts.

Thus, I am re-initiating my veganism in order to have inspiration for my blog. I will blog for the next 30 days about my veganism (13th to 13th). I will not be blogging every day, nor will I blog only about veganism, but please expect random vegan anecdotes to make their way onto collecting snowmen in your freezer. Now being vegan is not a completely foreign idea for me. I was vegan for six months in 2007. That being said, even those who flirt with veganism have their weaknesses.

What are some other advantages of blogging about veganism? Well, firstly....you have something to keep you accountable to your diet. That thing would be type. When I was in Ecuador, I thought of going back to veganism when I returned to Canada. I then flirted with veganism, eating a mainly vegetarian diet. Then I flirted with vegetarianism, eating mainly a vegetarian diet sprinkled with the random meat product here and there. Sometimes that meat product would even be sausage, which would go against my muslim upbringing and introduce the pork and pig into my body...yuck! When did i think that was a good idea? Never....I feel like that is something I will not miss.

Let me take this opportunity to talk about things that I will miss.
1. Eggs (free-range, of course). If you have read recent blog posts or have lived with me since I have been back from Ecuador, you will realize that i LOVE eggs (free-range, of course). (Mind the emphasis.) (Mind the unnecessary use of brackets).
2. Honey Goat Cheese, because I bought some today. It was really good and I still have about 75% of it left.

So it seems that my main challenge is eggs; however, the REAL challenge is much simpler than that. The biggest challenge to my becoming vegan...is remembering. We will see how this goes. Everyone wish me luck!

hippy party! and everyone's invited cause all you need is love!

I have always been hypersensitive to being called a hippy. There is nothing wrong with being a hippy, but being involved in the environmental movement, I was wary that I would lose all credibility if I came off as a nose-piered, scraggly haired, Birkenstock wearing white girl (only because i look white, not because I am white) who talks slow and has deep-set eyes, making her look like a pot-head. All these things never worked in my favour.

That all being said, I believe that the following scenarios exemplify the way i come off...even though I avoid it.

1. My friend Anthony grabbed my Birkenstocks and threw them out the door, saying “Get your dirty hippy shoes out of my room.”

2. The same person i previously called my friend (which I am rethinking now that I wrote scenario 1) told me that i had to watch the hippy episode of South Park with him. As we watched the episode he not only laughed histerically, but found it ever so necessary to point at me at every joke as if I emulated every anti-hippy comment.

3. I dressed up like a hippy for Halloween. No one knew I had dressed up.

4. I was talking about jobs I wanted to apply for after my contract ended with a friend. When I explained to him the job that was my top choice, he threw his hands up and said, “YAY! That is perfect for you! You can be queen hippy.” I then noticed that if I was looking to pursue a career in which i would be dubbed “Queen hippy” that I was clearly on my way towards hippy-dom.

This weekend I went to an environmental conference (PowerShift2009) to which about 12,000 youth from all over the continent gathered. It was a great way to learn about the green movement, get connected to the green movement, and be surrounded by fellow hippies...even though I may not identify as one.

This post is not about what I learned. It is also not about the environment or environmentalism (well...it is a little bit, but not a lot a bit). But rather, it is about the top indicators that you are attending a hippy conference. Thus I am prompted to move onto the meat of this post:

The top indicators that you are attending a hippy conference.

1. Hair! Hair is a hippy’s identifying feature. You will never find straight hair among new-age hippies. Long straight hair belonged to the hippy of the 60’s. The hippy of the new century will not have long straight hair. Straight hair in the new-age hippy movement will be found in messy pony-tails or dread-locks. Most hair, however, is either curly or wavy. Often it is frizzy. And there will be a high density of dread-locks.
2. Hair accessories. Bobby pins and head bands for the ladies. Trucker hats and toques which sit on top of their heads for the gents.
3. Lots of green. Colour of the environment. We love the earth...la la la laa....
4. High density of large thick-framed glasses. They are thick! And they are large. I brought a pair of fake large thick-framed glasses that I put on whenever someone starts taking photos. I was afraid to take them out of my bag.

There are also several factors that differentiate hippy conferences of the 60’s to new age hippy conferences. Those were also visible at this event.

1. Text messaging and the use of flickr. Who owns a lighter these days? A vast majority of the keynote speakers and musical guests were greeted with cell phones raised up in the air. As they gained the attention of the crowd they spewed out directions. Text message power to this number. Text message solidarity to that number. Now text message love, peace, and daisies to someone you don’t know.
2. Starbucks. This is also an indication of how many posers there were. Not that all hippies who drink Starbucks are posers...but once you reach the astronomical number of “hippies” that had Starbucks you know you are seeping into the hippy scene more than hippy dom. I was surprised at how many hippies forgot their travel mugs. Maybe this was an American thing. Because there is no Canadian hippy that dares leave the house without a travel mug. Even those who do not drink coffee find some sort of warm drink with which they can fall in love (often some herbal tisane...i don’t even know what a tisane is and the word made it into the blog, which goes to show how prevalent tisanes actually are).

While the hippy fest never really bothered me, I was caught off guard once a middle-eastern girl grabbed my hand as I was walking down a hallway trying to get to a workshop. Next thing i know I was running around in a circle, holding hands with the hippy middle-eastern girl (who had long, wavy, un-brushed hair) and some other chick who i didn’t even notice. I was too baffled that i was actually running around in a hippy circle. The middle-eastern ring leader then started chanting “When I say ‘all you need’ you say ‘love.’ ALL YOU NEED!” Everyone chanted back “LOVE”
ALL YOU NEED
LOVE
ALL YOU NEED
LOVE
ALL YOU NEED
LOVE
ALL YOU NEED
......aaaaaaaaaaaa......is A REALITY CHECK!! I ran out of the circle. I broke the chain. I didn’t know what to do. I found a girl I knew amidst the crowd of 12,000. I grabbed her and frantically asked, “I can´t do this. Give me a hair brush!”