Leukemia sucks. Leukemia sucks. LEUKEMIA SUCKS! No, I don't have leukemia, nor have I ever, but my eight-year-old cousin does. He was diagnosed two and a half years ago on my sister's sixteenth birthday. Ever since, we've been counting down to March 10, 2012, the day we get to hear those two glorious words: cancer free. In the meantime, there's still plenty to be done, such as cursing leukemia's existence while raising awareness, and educating people as much as possible. I'm not an expert by any means, but I'll do the best I can.
For those who don't know, September is Child Cancer Awareness month. Earlier in the month, my cousin and his family spent a night in Toronto, as the CN Tower was going to glow gold, the result of a campaign from a young girl who understood cancer all too well. Her goal? Make the public more aware of childhood cancer. Unfortunately, I missed the occasion, but I'm of the understanding that it was quite the spectacle. I hope that by the time all was said and done, she was able to say to herself, "mission: accomplished".
Naturally, when you hear "leukemia", many negative thoughts swirl through your mind. It's human nature. When we first heard, "it's leukemia," trying to find something positive in amongst the Sea of Not Fair and What the Hell?! wasn't easy, but we managed to find things to smile about. A little over a year ago, my cousin and his family came over for an afternoon visit. As we'd had plenty of rain, our ditch was flooded, so I'd suggested that we make boats. Bear in mind that at this time, my cousin had lost most of his hair, thus revealing a few birth marks. Next thing we knew, my mother had taken a bright green marker, and played connect-the-dots on the side of his head, creating what looked like a sail boat. My cousin giggled at the silliness. Before long, his younger brother had a green boat on his cheek to match the one on the side of his big brother's head. We'd rather have something silly like the green marker boat, or a fascination for electricity define my cousin, not his cancer. However unlike playing connect-the-dots, not all positive aspects result from happy endings. To better understand such a proclamation, you must first travel back in time, approximately 82 years ago.
My great gram once had a brother who was a year older than her. When he was in his teens, he became incredibly unwell. Naturally, great gram's family sent for the doctor, however, he couldn't figure out what was wrong. In an attempt to find answers, doctors from the city were called upon with the belief that they would certainly have a cure. Sadly, a few weeks later, at the age of sixteen, great gram's brother passed away. Back in the 1920's, doctors had no clue what leukemia was, resulting in those city physicians chosing to study my great uncle. From what I've been told, great gram's brother was one of the earliest cases of leukemia in the area. To this day, my family firmly believes that those doctors found something with my great gram's brother 82 years ago that's helping my cousin conquer cancer today.
I've definitely become more educated since my cousin was diagnosed. For instance, I've learned that there's more than one type of leukemia, and that the side effects of my cousin's meds have resulted in everything from temporary weight gain, to hair loss, to mood swings. I've also learned that low neuts allow opportunistic viruses to have a field day, but most of all, I've learned that he's tougher than I'll ever be. He has the bravery beads to prove it.
September may be over, but being aware of child cancer must never cease. Knowledge is power, and one day that power will make leukemia all but a memory. Five more months, and counting...
Friday 30 September 2011
Thursday 29 September 2011
Take a Breath, and Find Your Centre
Someone I know through a mutual friend posed a statement and question earlier that read, "we all need to take a moment sometimes to just breathe. What do you to to centre yourself?" In my mind, most of the responses seemed rather typical. Read, listen to music, the general stuff that falls into this category. I'd said that sometimes, centring myself is as simple as shutting my eyes for a few moments. I was then asked if I have a mantra to go along with it. Have a find-my-centre mantra? No, I can't say that I have one of those, however, I did mention an exercise that I used to do in high school drama class. The teacher would sometimes have the class lie down on the floor. We'd be told to close our eyes, and clear our minds, a simple, meditative-like way of finding our centres. Sometimes, when I'm having difficulty sleeping, I still do this simple exercise. I let myself go, and feel the ultimate relaxation come over me. Next thing I know, it's the next day, and I'm not only well rested, but still feeling somewhat relaxed. Of course, if I'm not wanting to sleep, reading and listening to jazz music can have a similar effect, but for a conscious, R.E.M equivalent, taking a moment to shut my eyes can work wonders. What works for you?
Your Paper Voice
My mother and I went to the advance polls today, as there is the Ontario election next week. Such a simple thing to do, marking that "x" on my ballot. We were mere moments in the polling station, the time shorter than the length of a song on the radio. When we were leaving, I'd remarked to my mum how there will be so many people who won't bother to take those few minutes out of their day to vote, whether it's on the election day itself, or at the advance polls, my personal preference.
I wonder if people realize just how important the right to vote really is? Granted, some people refrain simply due to ignorance, or the pitiful excuse that they just didn't have time. News flash! By law, your employer must allow you time to vote should the polling stations open after you've arrived at work, or close before you shift has ended. Therefore, to say, "I didn't have time" is an unacceptable excuse. As for people who are out of country, I saw this video with Canadian voters outside of Canada who had acquired a special type of ballot that managed to allow them to still vote. Still, I doubt people understand why such an attitude frustrates me to no end, so I suppose I ought to explain myself.
We live in Canada, the best damn country in the universe, where we get to live peacefully and free without a second thought, or a fear in the world. Other countries aren't as fortunate. Wars run rampid, rain is made up of shrapnel and bullets, and voting is only reserved for a select few. People in these Third World countries would give their lives just to be able to go to a polling station. So many more already have. To not take advantage of the right that people are literally dying for flabbergasts me. Since when is marking an "x" difficult? I realize that deciding who to vote for can be tough, however, there are numerous resources in this province that help make the decision easier. When the candidates go on their campaign trail, the media is all over them like vultures, or the paparazzi. Finding candidate and party platforms is fairly simple as every word, and breath in between, can be found in newspapers, the televison, and the internet. And don't forget about the televised debates, where every party leader lets the people know exactly where they stand on the issues of most importance. Start your search with an idea of what's important to you, and basically match up your beliefs with the candidate whose values are similar to yours. If you've ever sat in a civics class in high school, you've already done the bulk of this research as you did an exercise that helps you determine where you sit on the political spectrum.Was that so hard? No. So people can't say that they didn't know who to vote for.
Earlier this year, just before the Federal election, one of my best friends and I had a rather heated debate about voting, particularly marking ballots. He believes that if you don't like any of the candidates, then you should be able to spoil your ballot. Take it, and not mark a damn thing on it. He claims that it is a form of silent protest. I think it's ignorant of our right, our freedom, a mockery of what many others do not have. "If you weren't going to mark your ballot, why did you even bother wasting not only your time, but the time of others, of those who actually want to put a ballot with an "x" in the box?" I don't care who you vote for, but dammit, you had better vote!
What irks me even more is when females don't bother to go to the polls. My god! Ladies, do you even realize how lucky you are? Probably not, so here's a little education for you. I hope you enjoy history.
Once upon a time, in a nation in North America, called Canada, women had no rights. They weren't considered people, and they certainly were not permitted to vote. My great gram's mother fell into this category, along with my great gram herself, and her sisters as well. In the late 1920's, a beautiul thing happened. The Person's Case, in 1927, I do believe. Women, after going through more decades than I care to count, were finally considered people. They were finally allowed to go to the polls, and mark a ballot. My great gram was in her early teens, her sisters in their late twenties, early thirties, her mother likely an old woman, if she was still alive (I don't know what year she died). I remember this, my great gram once being considered something other than a person, every time I hit the polls. I think of how lucky I am.
I remember the first time I voted. I was 18, and it was a Federal election. My mum took my great gram and I to the advance polls. Great gram teased me, saying that her vote was going to cancel out mine. I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was the other way around. She was just glad that I was finally old enough to take part. Our polling station was at Participation House, and I think my mum and great gram knew all of the people who were running the operation. We mentioned that I was a first time voter, and the election volunteers became quite excited. I remember being given my ballot, told how to mark it, how to fold it, and I was directed to the screens that had the pencil. Ballot marked, I folded it up, and went over to the ballot box, the room quiet at the time. As soon as I slipped that paper through the slot at the top, the room erupted in thunderous applause. What an awesome experience! My mum's favourite part was having three generations of ladies all out to the polls in the same room at the same time.
One more thing, before I end my wild tangent. If you're too young to vote, I believe that you're given the right to have a political opinion on the condition that when you're old enough, you hit the polls. If you're voting age, and choose not to, you forfeit your right to have a political opinion, regardless of how positive it may be. I say positive as the majority of opinions I hear are negative. And the youth? Hello! To paraphrase Rick Mercer, scare the living hell out of the government, and get out there and vote! Our politicians target every group under the sun, but more often than not, they forget about us, the youth. Now, let's get out to the polls, make our voices heard, and become a politician's worst nightmare!
This election, think of the people who have never been given the chance to mark a ballot, think of the people who likely never will, and the women in Saudi Arabia who have just been told by King Abdullah that they will finally be permitted to vote in their next munincipal election, and even run in politics, should they have the desire. Remember my great gram, her mother, her sisters, and how they once had no rights, now to be considered people. Come election time, the most important voice we have is our paper one. May Ontario hear it loud and clear!
Below are links to "Vote Mob Abroad", and Rick Mercer's "Vote" rant. Videos compliments of YouTube.
I wonder if people realize just how important the right to vote really is? Granted, some people refrain simply due to ignorance, or the pitiful excuse that they just didn't have time. News flash! By law, your employer must allow you time to vote should the polling stations open after you've arrived at work, or close before you shift has ended. Therefore, to say, "I didn't have time" is an unacceptable excuse. As for people who are out of country, I saw this video with Canadian voters outside of Canada who had acquired a special type of ballot that managed to allow them to still vote. Still, I doubt people understand why such an attitude frustrates me to no end, so I suppose I ought to explain myself.
We live in Canada, the best damn country in the universe, where we get to live peacefully and free without a second thought, or a fear in the world. Other countries aren't as fortunate. Wars run rampid, rain is made up of shrapnel and bullets, and voting is only reserved for a select few. People in these Third World countries would give their lives just to be able to go to a polling station. So many more already have. To not take advantage of the right that people are literally dying for flabbergasts me. Since when is marking an "x" difficult? I realize that deciding who to vote for can be tough, however, there are numerous resources in this province that help make the decision easier. When the candidates go on their campaign trail, the media is all over them like vultures, or the paparazzi. Finding candidate and party platforms is fairly simple as every word, and breath in between, can be found in newspapers, the televison, and the internet. And don't forget about the televised debates, where every party leader lets the people know exactly where they stand on the issues of most importance. Start your search with an idea of what's important to you, and basically match up your beliefs with the candidate whose values are similar to yours. If you've ever sat in a civics class in high school, you've already done the bulk of this research as you did an exercise that helps you determine where you sit on the political spectrum.Was that so hard? No. So people can't say that they didn't know who to vote for.
Earlier this year, just before the Federal election, one of my best friends and I had a rather heated debate about voting, particularly marking ballots. He believes that if you don't like any of the candidates, then you should be able to spoil your ballot. Take it, and not mark a damn thing on it. He claims that it is a form of silent protest. I think it's ignorant of our right, our freedom, a mockery of what many others do not have. "If you weren't going to mark your ballot, why did you even bother wasting not only your time, but the time of others, of those who actually want to put a ballot with an "x" in the box?" I don't care who you vote for, but dammit, you had better vote!
What irks me even more is when females don't bother to go to the polls. My god! Ladies, do you even realize how lucky you are? Probably not, so here's a little education for you. I hope you enjoy history.
Once upon a time, in a nation in North America, called Canada, women had no rights. They weren't considered people, and they certainly were not permitted to vote. My great gram's mother fell into this category, along with my great gram herself, and her sisters as well. In the late 1920's, a beautiul thing happened. The Person's Case, in 1927, I do believe. Women, after going through more decades than I care to count, were finally considered people. They were finally allowed to go to the polls, and mark a ballot. My great gram was in her early teens, her sisters in their late twenties, early thirties, her mother likely an old woman, if she was still alive (I don't know what year she died). I remember this, my great gram once being considered something other than a person, every time I hit the polls. I think of how lucky I am.
I remember the first time I voted. I was 18, and it was a Federal election. My mum took my great gram and I to the advance polls. Great gram teased me, saying that her vote was going to cancel out mine. I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was the other way around. She was just glad that I was finally old enough to take part. Our polling station was at Participation House, and I think my mum and great gram knew all of the people who were running the operation. We mentioned that I was a first time voter, and the election volunteers became quite excited. I remember being given my ballot, told how to mark it, how to fold it, and I was directed to the screens that had the pencil. Ballot marked, I folded it up, and went over to the ballot box, the room quiet at the time. As soon as I slipped that paper through the slot at the top, the room erupted in thunderous applause. What an awesome experience! My mum's favourite part was having three generations of ladies all out to the polls in the same room at the same time.
One more thing, before I end my wild tangent. If you're too young to vote, I believe that you're given the right to have a political opinion on the condition that when you're old enough, you hit the polls. If you're voting age, and choose not to, you forfeit your right to have a political opinion, regardless of how positive it may be. I say positive as the majority of opinions I hear are negative. And the youth? Hello! To paraphrase Rick Mercer, scare the living hell out of the government, and get out there and vote! Our politicians target every group under the sun, but more often than not, they forget about us, the youth. Now, let's get out to the polls, make our voices heard, and become a politician's worst nightmare!
This election, think of the people who have never been given the chance to mark a ballot, think of the people who likely never will, and the women in Saudi Arabia who have just been told by King Abdullah that they will finally be permitted to vote in their next munincipal election, and even run in politics, should they have the desire. Remember my great gram, her mother, her sisters, and how they once had no rights, now to be considered people. Come election time, the most important voice we have is our paper one. May Ontario hear it loud and clear!
Below are links to "Vote Mob Abroad", and Rick Mercer's "Vote" rant. Videos compliments of YouTube.
Review: Before I Go to Sleep
Before I Go to Sleep, a novel by S.J Watson, is a fantastic first-person suspense story told from the journal entries that make up the memory of Christine Lucas. The tale is fictional, however, the ideas are rather close to reality. Imagaine waking up every morning, not knowing who you are, let alone what you did the day before. This is the day-to-day reality of Chistine, the existence of a woman whose husband and doctor have to explain her life to her on a daily basis. At the recommendation of her doctor, a man her husband doesn't know about, Christine starts to keep a secret journal as a means of piecing her life back together. Sound suspicious? It ought to as Christine soon discovers that her reality might actually be someone else's twisted fantasy. Those who she ought to trust, and had trusted, don't appear to be who they seem. This book was difficult to put down, and ironically, I'd read it before I'd go to sleep. When I first picked it up, I had only intended to read a chapter or two before getting some shut-eye. Next thing I knew, I'd blown through 40 pages, and my clock read 2am. If that doesn't indicate the start of a good book, I don't know what does. Overall, I'd recommend this book to anyone who enjoys suspense novels and psycological thrillers. A few things were repetitive, but necessary for the character's development. Give it a go. It won't put you to sleep.
Wednesday 28 September 2011
A Family Definition
I was mucking around on my Facebook earlier, and one of my friends had posted a question that was rather simple: What would your definition of "auntie" be? Some might say that the answer to such a question is quite simple, as an aunt is really the sister of your mother or father. For me, my definition isn't quite as simple. To me, an aunt is anyone who isn't technically family, but who may as well be, along with a person who has had a positive impact on my life in some manner. I'd say that definition makes sense, and that the same could be said for uncle. We have family friends who we're very close with, and I refer to these people as aunt and uncle. I also have family members (or former family members) who I've never had a close relationship with, yet they're technically an aunt or an uncle, and I only ever refer to these people by their first names. It's not that I have anything against these people, it's just that to refer to them by such a title seems strange and doesn't feel right. A metaphorical bad taste in my mouth. There are certain people whom I haven't seen in what feels like an eternity who still have such a title from me, and same with someone who I barely remember, but I still refer to him as "uncle" in conversation. I suppose my definition could also work with very close friends too who are like siblings. I've known my best friend since I was three years old. Sure, we refer to each other as besties, but we also say that we may as well be siblings. I've been known to refer to him as the Brother I Never Had (I only have sisters), while I've been known on occasion as Sister #2. I have a few other friends who are like sisters to me too. I don't know what I would do without these people. Sure, having biological siblings is great, along with a pseudo-brother, but sometimes, there as sisterly issues that need to be addressed, and having someone your own age just seems to make everything easier, whether it's a complex conversation, or a problem in need of a solution. In the end, we all have people who fall under these categories. I know that if I didn't have these people in my life, it would not only be very different, but possibly very boring. So? Who do you have?
Have something to say, but don't know the words? Fear no more! I'll make it write!
Have something to say, but don't know the words? Fear no more! I'll make it write!
Tuesday 27 September 2011
Hakuna Matata
So I'm going slightly off my original intent because I just had to say something about The Lion King. I went to see it this evening with one of my best friends. He's always been a Disney fan from the start. As for me, not so much. Generally, Disney movies annoy me to no end, but I just had to go see The Lion King. I remember seeing it in theatres when it came out the first time (in 1994). My mum took me. That was when Limeridge Mall still had a movie theatre. I remember feeling happy, sad, laughing, and crying. I even remember an Alannah Miles song playing on the radio on the drive home. Strange how sometimes you remember the smallest, most insignificant details. Tonight, for an hour and a half, I got to be the seven-year-old child again, reliving the magic of a savannah tale. I'll be honest with you. I knew that I was going to shed tears. Two words: Mufasa's death. I also expected to cry when he came back to Simba as that clouded vision. I could also feel my eyes well up when Simba was caught in the midst of the stampede as I knew what was coming. What I didn't expect was to start getting all weepy within half a second of the sun rising and the "Circle of Life" playing at the very beginning of the movie. I blame getting all nostalgic. All the tears aside, I was reminded of how amazing it was. A great story, beautiful artwork, and the climax between Simba and Scar is pretty unforgettable. Know who else is hard to forget? Timon and Pumbaa. I couldn't help but find myself singing along to "Hakuna Matata" in the theatre this evening. In the end, I relieved my childhood with one of the most incredible movies of all time (I'd read somewhere that it was Disney's greatest grossing movie, and it's easy to see why). Hakuna Matata! To be a child again.
Have something to say, but don't know the words? Fear no more! I'll make it write.
Have something to say, but don't know the words? Fear no more! I'll make it write.
An Introduction
This is it. My first-ever blog post. I have so many things to say, but I don't know where to begin, though I suppose if I said them all at once, I'd run of potential posts, wouldn't I? So I'll keep this short and simple. I don't want to babble on about nothing. I'd like what I say to induce some form of thought, perhaps even leave an impact. So, when I get my thoughts in order, I'll begin my next post, though one would be safe to presume that it'll involve the importance of voting in the upcoming provincial election. The importance of your own paper voice. So, I shall leave you with that until the next time.
Have something to say but don't know the words? Fear no more! I'll make it write.
Have something to say but don't know the words? Fear no more! I'll make it write.
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