Today Pastor Raymond made a point in his sermon that challenged what I said in my previous post about not really being able to do bad when you're doing good by having wrong motives. He said, basically, that motive is everything... which is like, the total opposite of what I had thought.
Anyway, on further reflection, I think he is right when it comes to doctriney-theology-stuff. I was flipping through Matthew and reached the part in Chaper 5 about adultery, where Jesus says, "You have heard that it was said, 'Do not commit adultery.' But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart." In that way, a man who even thinks about a woman lustfully, without even doing anything to express this, is already guilty of lust. So it's pretty clear that God looks at the heart, and the reason for what we do. The way that we approach Him in worship matters.
On a human relational level, I felt that motive matters less. Does it matter whether somebody helps me because they're trying to be kind, or because they think I'm an idiot? Is it important if somebody donated to charity out of good will or out of their own self-seeking aim for glory?
But using the... err... transitive.. property? (I certainly hope, but somehow doubt, that I'm applying this properly.) If our heart matters in the way we worship God... and... everything we do should be an act of worship... I guess motives matter in everything that we do.
So, to amend my statement, I will just leave it at that we are not in a place to judge other people's motives for doing things (such as the two hypothetical dilemmas I posed), but we should have our hearts in the right place when we ... do things.
...I am way too tired to write.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
Good and evil.
"There absolutely can be evils acts. And there are evil or bad acts that can be committed by good people. We see that all the time. I see all these wrongful convictions, and I see all these people who have power, whether they are police or prosecutors, who really believe that they are good people, who have the authority and who begin to believe that if they decide somebody is guilty or has done something wrong, they are so righteous themselves and have done so much good in the world and avenged so much evil that their actions can't be questioned. And even more than that - that it's okay for them to bury exculpatory evidence, or to take shortcuts, to not follow fair process, to not even consider that they might be wrong because they are so good. Those people with that kind of self-righteousness very often commit acts of evil. And by evil I mean not just being wrong but doing things that are malicious. Gratuitously nasty.
"I look at evil acts, acts of malice, as opposed to a notion of evil as a force, as if there's something inside of people that inexorably leads them to take malicious, horrible, hurtful actions. There may very well be. I think that's an important distinction, because I see people all the time who, by an definition, describe themselves as good, and maybe in many other aspects of their lives you would not take issue with anything they do. They're good servants of the community, they're good to members of their family, they are, in many instances, very religious in the best of ways - kindness and charity and giving and good acts towards others - and almost because of their self-righteous belief that anything they do is good, they do evil."
-Barry Scheck, Attorney, in an interview with Cathleen Falsani, February 2005; from The God Factor
I won't lie: I think I'm a good person. I like to think I'm average or above-average in most categories, with the exception of height. I'm not really sure what I'm basing my judgments on, though, because I know for fact that I also do bad things. I don't know if I'd call them evil... but I guess that is, again, because I consider myself good - perhaps too good to be evil.
The words spoken by Scheck struck a chord within me as I was reading them today, emphasizing two things for me: that the distinction between a person and a person's actions is something we need to, but often forget to make; and that bad things - maybe even evil things - happen when people assume themselves to be good.
Through the psych courses I took at school, I learned all about the power of situation in determining people's actions and reactions, but also how people are the sum of their habits or actions or something. Even though I had a lot of theoretical knowledge about social psychology, it was still a struggle to learn to separate who people are from the things that they do. Personally I find it makes more sense only going one way: people who do bad things may not automatically be bad people, but how can people who do good things not be good people? I guess people can do good things for wrong motives, but I don't think it makes them bad, because they still did good. I actually wonder if there is such thing as a wrong motive for doing good.
That being said, I suppose it's how people arrive at the conclusion that they're good: because they do good things - for their family, their community, etc. But in order to arrive at said conclusion, people usually have to ignore all the bad stuff they did do. That's easily done by compartmentalizing our life, or placing less importance on the area what we're weak in. And especially if bad things are done in secret, nobody has to know, nobody gets hurt, and we can still see ourselves as good people.
When we start feeling too good about ourselves, our pride consumes us and we inevitably do bad, whether to ourselves or to others. When I thought I had everything under control and thought I was too smart to ask people for advice, I ended up doing and putting up with a lot of stuff I wish I hadn't. When we start taking emphasizing our own importance and worth over others', we damage relationships with coworkers, with friends and with family.
Nowadays people are expected to have a healthy dose of self-confidence. We learn to sell ourselves in job or school interviews, to impress friends or parents or [future] in-laws, and so on. It is so hard to reconcile that notion with the fact that Jesus, God incarnate, who died for the sins of the world, never assumed himself to be anything greater than a servant. In light of that... Who am I to assume myself to be anything great at all?
Lyrics from a song by Watermark pop into my head now: "Who am I, that You would love me so gently? Who am I, that You would recognize my name? Lord, who am I, that You would speak to me so softly? Conversation with the Love most high... Who am I?"
I wrote in the cover letter of my job application to Evergreen that one thing I wanted to learn more about through working there, was humility. Clearly that is a journey that will stretch for far longer than a summer.
"I look at evil acts, acts of malice, as opposed to a notion of evil as a force, as if there's something inside of people that inexorably leads them to take malicious, horrible, hurtful actions. There may very well be. I think that's an important distinction, because I see people all the time who, by an definition, describe themselves as good, and maybe in many other aspects of their lives you would not take issue with anything they do. They're good servants of the community, they're good to members of their family, they are, in many instances, very religious in the best of ways - kindness and charity and giving and good acts towards others - and almost because of their self-righteous belief that anything they do is good, they do evil."
-Barry Scheck, Attorney, in an interview with Cathleen Falsani, February 2005; from The God Factor
I won't lie: I think I'm a good person. I like to think I'm average or above-average in most categories, with the exception of height. I'm not really sure what I'm basing my judgments on, though, because I know for fact that I also do bad things. I don't know if I'd call them evil... but I guess that is, again, because I consider myself good - perhaps too good to be evil.
The words spoken by Scheck struck a chord within me as I was reading them today, emphasizing two things for me: that the distinction between a person and a person's actions is something we need to, but often forget to make; and that bad things - maybe even evil things - happen when people assume themselves to be good.
Through the psych courses I took at school, I learned all about the power of situation in determining people's actions and reactions, but also how people are the sum of their habits or actions or something. Even though I had a lot of theoretical knowledge about social psychology, it was still a struggle to learn to separate who people are from the things that they do. Personally I find it makes more sense only going one way: people who do bad things may not automatically be bad people, but how can people who do good things not be good people? I guess people can do good things for wrong motives, but I don't think it makes them bad, because they still did good. I actually wonder if there is such thing as a wrong motive for doing good.
That being said, I suppose it's how people arrive at the conclusion that they're good: because they do good things - for their family, their community, etc. But in order to arrive at said conclusion, people usually have to ignore all the bad stuff they did do. That's easily done by compartmentalizing our life, or placing less importance on the area what we're weak in. And especially if bad things are done in secret, nobody has to know, nobody gets hurt, and we can still see ourselves as good people.
When we start feeling too good about ourselves, our pride consumes us and we inevitably do bad, whether to ourselves or to others. When I thought I had everything under control and thought I was too smart to ask people for advice, I ended up doing and putting up with a lot of stuff I wish I hadn't. When we start taking emphasizing our own importance and worth over others', we damage relationships with coworkers, with friends and with family.
Nowadays people are expected to have a healthy dose of self-confidence. We learn to sell ourselves in job or school interviews, to impress friends or parents or [future] in-laws, and so on. It is so hard to reconcile that notion with the fact that Jesus, God incarnate, who died for the sins of the world, never assumed himself to be anything greater than a servant. In light of that... Who am I to assume myself to be anything great at all?
Lyrics from a song by Watermark pop into my head now: "Who am I, that You would love me so gently? Who am I, that You would recognize my name? Lord, who am I, that You would speak to me so softly? Conversation with the Love most high... Who am I?"
I wrote in the cover letter of my job application to Evergreen that one thing I wanted to learn more about through working there, was humility. Clearly that is a journey that will stretch for far longer than a summer.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
East meets West.
"There is something about the egoism of this particular part of the world that has everything to do with the cross and how that all manifests itself out. I think there is a reason they're not obsessed with the cross that much on the Eastern side of the planet, because they have more of a group consciousness. And when you have a solo consciousness, like a lot of Westerners do, it is really about being on the cross. You're the one putting yourself up there. And I think the whole point is to try to figure out how to get off the f---ing cross."
- Billy Corgan
In my life I often feel like I'm standing at a crossroads where independent Western culture meets traditional, interdependent Chinese values. I just found it interesting that Billy Corgan mentioned the way culture influences spirituality, which I hadn't really stopped to think about before. Being raised in the West, in Canada, in Toronto - where multiculturalism is freely celebrated - I think my values encompass a decent and dynamic balance of capitalism and socialism. When it comes to my faith though, I think I really do have a 'solo consciousness'. I get fixated on blemishes and guilt in my past; I try to discern my own spiritual gifts so I can serve most effectively; I read books and do devotions to establish my own position on issues that I think matter. Somewhere along the way, the importance of church and community diminished. I do think that going to church and having a network of support are valuable, but again, mostly for my own benefit: I go to church to have my mind broadened with others' opinions and knowledge, and I seek fellowship for companionship and encouragement.
The story of Achan is one that has always stuck with me, perhaps because I wrestle with the idea of fairness, that everyone should suffer for the wrongdoing of one person. Back in Old Testament times, if one person messed up, the whole tribe or even the whole nation would face something terrible - loss in a war, natural disaster, famine, or the like. It emphasizes a sort of unity within a family or group that is almost unfathomable by today's standards.
Today's philosophy states "Live, and let live". We each do what we think is right, and leave each other alone for fear of seeming judgmental or hypocritical. This idea is brought out all too clearly in reading The God Factor - every interviewee has their own concept of spirituality, sometimes even choosing parts of different faiths and religions to create a sort of 'fusion faith'. Everybody claims there's no absolute anymore. It seems that people do realize their own corruption, and are just trying to cling to whatever bits of faith they can, to be at peace with themselves - or, to put it in Corgan's words, to figure out how to get off the cross.
If we were to switch to a 'group consciousness' mindset, what would that look like? My guess is, edifying and rebuking one another in love - and in doing so, realizing that there are some absolutes in life - and making the world a better place. There's been a tremendous shift towards the latter in recent years especially with lots of public icons taking on philanthropy as a hobby, which is fantastic, and which I've had the privilege of dabbling in. I guess I just need to be more conscious of being more of a giver than a taker, both spiritually and otherwise.
- Billy Corgan
In my life I often feel like I'm standing at a crossroads where independent Western culture meets traditional, interdependent Chinese values. I just found it interesting that Billy Corgan mentioned the way culture influences spirituality, which I hadn't really stopped to think about before. Being raised in the West, in Canada, in Toronto - where multiculturalism is freely celebrated - I think my values encompass a decent and dynamic balance of capitalism and socialism. When it comes to my faith though, I think I really do have a 'solo consciousness'. I get fixated on blemishes and guilt in my past; I try to discern my own spiritual gifts so I can serve most effectively; I read books and do devotions to establish my own position on issues that I think matter. Somewhere along the way, the importance of church and community diminished. I do think that going to church and having a network of support are valuable, but again, mostly for my own benefit: I go to church to have my mind broadened with others' opinions and knowledge, and I seek fellowship for companionship and encouragement.
The story of Achan is one that has always stuck with me, perhaps because I wrestle with the idea of fairness, that everyone should suffer for the wrongdoing of one person. Back in Old Testament times, if one person messed up, the whole tribe or even the whole nation would face something terrible - loss in a war, natural disaster, famine, or the like. It emphasizes a sort of unity within a family or group that is almost unfathomable by today's standards.
Today's philosophy states "Live, and let live". We each do what we think is right, and leave each other alone for fear of seeming judgmental or hypocritical. This idea is brought out all too clearly in reading The God Factor - every interviewee has their own concept of spirituality, sometimes even choosing parts of different faiths and religions to create a sort of 'fusion faith'. Everybody claims there's no absolute anymore. It seems that people do realize their own corruption, and are just trying to cling to whatever bits of faith they can, to be at peace with themselves - or, to put it in Corgan's words, to figure out how to get off the cross.
If we were to switch to a 'group consciousness' mindset, what would that look like? My guess is, edifying and rebuking one another in love - and in doing so, realizing that there are some absolutes in life - and making the world a better place. There's been a tremendous shift towards the latter in recent years especially with lots of public icons taking on philanthropy as a hobby, which is fantastic, and which I've had the privilege of dabbling in. I guess I just need to be more conscious of being more of a giver than a taker, both spiritually and otherwise.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Everybody's got a story.
Now who can read the mind of the red-headed girl next door, or the taxi driver who just dropped you off, or the classmate that you ignore? Don't assume everything on the surface is what you see, 'cause that classmate just lost her mother, and that taxi-driver's got a Ph.D. I'm so tired of the fear that weighs us down with wrong assumptions of broken hearts and natural function. [You] See my eyes, [but] don't see what I see; [you could] touch my tongue, [but you] don't know what tastes good to me. It's the human condition that keeps us apart. Everybody's got a story that could break your heart.
- Amanda Marshall, Everybody's Got A Story
I love Amanda Marshall, most immediately for her soulful voice, but also for her esoteric lyrics and pouffy hair. Everybody's Got A Story is one of my favourite songs because when I think I've got everything and everybody figured out, it brings me back to the place of realizing how little we all as humans are able to comprehend about one another.
One thing I admire greatly about the youth I've met at Evergreen is their openness and honesty. They have nothing to hide, so they easily (and sometimes too gladly) share the intimate details and goings-on in their lives. They'll tell you exactly how they ended up in the shelter system, or what they think and feel about so-and-so, and so forth.
Amongst the rest of society, emotion just seems so muted in comparison. Less drama is probably a good thing, but there's also a diminution of passion. There's a lot of pussyfooting around, trying not to say something politically incorrect, or offend anybody. It becomes difficult for people to open themselves up to one another or say what they really think or feel.
When I finally have a breakthrough moment over taboo or complacency, I relish the feeling of learning something intimate and new about my friends, and the feeling of added strength to the foundation of relationships. It makes me marvel at what a loving God we have, who already knows all the intimate details of each of our lives, and and still tries hard to get us to open up to Him.
* * *
Over the weekend I started reading a book called The God Factor. It's a collection of interviews between the author, a religion journalist named Cathleen Falsani, and a celebrity or public figureheads on the topic of spirituality and how it affects their lives/work/art. In the media, many causes like to use celebrities as their poster-people and advocates, religion being no exception. So Falsani gets to the root of these people's beliefs, and gets beyond the labels of what faith they claim to follow. I've so far finished three chapters: interviews with Bono, who grew up in the Church of Ireland and is awed by the fact that the "force of love and logic behind the universe... would choose to describe itself as a baby born in sh*t and straw and poverty"; Hugh Hefner, who describes himself as "a pretty moral guy" and claims that the meaning of life and highest moral value is love; and Sandra Bernhard, a devout follower of Kabbalah who reportedly introduced Madonna to the mystical branch of Judaism.
So far, so good. It's interesting to find out more about people's perspectives on spirituality, especially for those who help to shape or define culture during their lives. It's not a book from which to learn values or theology, but it's a good prompt to get yourself thinking about what you do believe, and a way to gain insight into today's varied schools of thought. Especially if one has grown up in the Church, it is hard to understand how others who didn't, view spirituality and religion.
- Amanda Marshall, Everybody's Got A Story
I love Amanda Marshall, most immediately for her soulful voice, but also for her esoteric lyrics and pouffy hair. Everybody's Got A Story is one of my favourite songs because when I think I've got everything and everybody figured out, it brings me back to the place of realizing how little we all as humans are able to comprehend about one another.
One thing I admire greatly about the youth I've met at Evergreen is their openness and honesty. They have nothing to hide, so they easily (and sometimes too gladly) share the intimate details and goings-on in their lives. They'll tell you exactly how they ended up in the shelter system, or what they think and feel about so-and-so, and so forth.
Amongst the rest of society, emotion just seems so muted in comparison. Less drama is probably a good thing, but there's also a diminution of passion. There's a lot of pussyfooting around, trying not to say something politically incorrect, or offend anybody. It becomes difficult for people to open themselves up to one another or say what they really think or feel.
When I finally have a breakthrough moment over taboo or complacency, I relish the feeling of learning something intimate and new about my friends, and the feeling of added strength to the foundation of relationships. It makes me marvel at what a loving God we have, who already knows all the intimate details of each of our lives, and and still tries hard to get us to open up to Him.
* * *
Over the weekend I started reading a book called The God Factor. It's a collection of interviews between the author, a religion journalist named Cathleen Falsani, and a celebrity or public figureheads on the topic of spirituality and how it affects their lives/work/art. In the media, many causes like to use celebrities as their poster-people and advocates, religion being no exception. So Falsani gets to the root of these people's beliefs, and gets beyond the labels of what faith they claim to follow. I've so far finished three chapters: interviews with Bono, who grew up in the Church of Ireland and is awed by the fact that the "force of love and logic behind the universe... would choose to describe itself as a baby born in sh*t and straw and poverty"; Hugh Hefner, who describes himself as "a pretty moral guy" and claims that the meaning of life and highest moral value is love; and Sandra Bernhard, a devout follower of Kabbalah who reportedly introduced Madonna to the mystical branch of Judaism.
So far, so good. It's interesting to find out more about people's perspectives on spirituality, especially for those who help to shape or define culture during their lives. It's not a book from which to learn values or theology, but it's a good prompt to get yourself thinking about what you do believe, and a way to gain insight into today's varied schools of thought. Especially if one has grown up in the Church, it is hard to understand how others who didn't, view spirituality and religion.
Friday, August 03, 2007
sooo sad :(
I had lunch and went shopping with Monica and Bobo today, since we all didn't have to work. We ended up in the huge Winners at Bay & Bloor, just poking around until they had to take off for a work barbecue. I was digging through the shoes, and I usually end up just trying on most shoes that I see, even if they don't look extremely appealing at first glance. One pair that I tried today was a faux animal print flat - white, with small black leopard-esque spots, and with a ribbon tied into a bow. The right shoe was significantly more scuffed up than the left, the spots looked more brown than black. I thought it looked a little funny, but seeing as they were only $14, I thought that I might take a chance on them because they were cute, and they might end up equally scuffed in the end anyway. Upon closer inspection though, the price turned out to be $74.00, not $14.00!! I hate when that happens.
how quickly tables turn.
It's incredible how quickly things can go from great to crappy. Everything will be going great one minute, and then something or somebody will just bring it all toppling down, the next. That happened three times today. What. A. Day.
First, summer team all went to Esther's house for breakfast this morning; we had fruit, bacon, and blueberry pancakes while sitting in a backyard teeming with overgrown Jumanji-esque vegetation. That afternoon when we went to work, L was back from vacation, but there's a new nurse who's really sweet and nice to help out. L did her pill counting routine in a little room by herself for most of the day, which was fine by me. It wasn't until about 4:20, when people are flooding in right before closing time, that she decided to appear in the waiting room and be entirely unhelpful. Instead of helping the youth be seen or get what they need so they can get out of here and we can close, she decided to lecture them about coming earlier because we're going to close. She also stopped me in the middle of what I was doing, to ask what I was doing. So after I spent about a minute explaining it to her, she just... raised her eyebrows, and made some random grunting noise of acknowledgment. That's real productive... I love work, but I just can't stand her.
After work I was able to calm myself down a bit because I was hanging out with Jo and Chris. We ate chicken, potato wedges and salad, and planned to go out and buy 300. On our way out the door, we also decided to go get some ice cream! When we got to Dominion's, we found that a lot of the ice cream was on sale, so we bought three tubs and headed back, excited to watch the movie and pig out. Not long after we scooped ice cream and popped the movie in, though, a strange beeping noise started in Jo's apartment. We ignored it for as long as we could, but we eventually decided that it was the fire alarm and we should evacuate. Joanna lives on the 40th floor. We got all the way down to the 14th floor, extremely dizzy, when the fire alarm stopped. So we decided to walk back up rather than wait for the elevators to start working again. Well.. when we got back up, all sweaty and exhausted, we found that the stairwell door was locked and we couldn't get back up to her floor! We had to sit on the 39th floor and wait until the elevator started up again. My legs were all jelly-ish... I couldn't wait for another bowl of ice-cream to replace the calories I'd just burned.
We ended up watching the movie, and I left around 10:30 to go back home. I had felt a little bad about not coming home for supper tonight because I came home late for the past couple of nights, and hadn't spent a lot of time with my family lately. When I got back, my sister told me that my parents had gone to the airport to pick up my grandma. So I went to check my email and what not... Soon afterwards, my parents came back, and then almost immediately my mom was telling my sister and myself to wash the dishes and hang up the laundry. I took a bunch of towels from the machine and hung them in the basement, and on my way back upstairs, I stopped to check my messages. Almost immediately, my sister starts yelling at me for not helping. I snapped something back about that I'd already done some of the laundry, and she started nitpicking about how much I'd done, or that I didn't help do the dishes... anyway, it was just so retarded because there will be other times where I do the dishes or whatever by myself. It's such a stupid thing to fight about, because there'll always be times that either one of us has to do more or less of the chores. All of a sudden I wasn't even glad to be home anymore.
Anyway, that was my rollercoaster of a day. Tomorrow I have the day off, so I hope it's less dramatic.
First, summer team all went to Esther's house for breakfast this morning; we had fruit, bacon, and blueberry pancakes while sitting in a backyard teeming with overgrown Jumanji-esque vegetation. That afternoon when we went to work, L was back from vacation, but there's a new nurse who's really sweet and nice to help out. L did her pill counting routine in a little room by herself for most of the day, which was fine by me. It wasn't until about 4:20, when people are flooding in right before closing time, that she decided to appear in the waiting room and be entirely unhelpful. Instead of helping the youth be seen or get what they need so they can get out of here and we can close, she decided to lecture them about coming earlier because we're going to close. She also stopped me in the middle of what I was doing, to ask what I was doing. So after I spent about a minute explaining it to her, she just... raised her eyebrows, and made some random grunting noise of acknowledgment. That's real productive... I love work, but I just can't stand her.
After work I was able to calm myself down a bit because I was hanging out with Jo and Chris. We ate chicken, potato wedges and salad, and planned to go out and buy 300. On our way out the door, we also decided to go get some ice cream! When we got to Dominion's, we found that a lot of the ice cream was on sale, so we bought three tubs and headed back, excited to watch the movie and pig out. Not long after we scooped ice cream and popped the movie in, though, a strange beeping noise started in Jo's apartment. We ignored it for as long as we could, but we eventually decided that it was the fire alarm and we should evacuate. Joanna lives on the 40th floor. We got all the way down to the 14th floor, extremely dizzy, when the fire alarm stopped. So we decided to walk back up rather than wait for the elevators to start working again. Well.. when we got back up, all sweaty and exhausted, we found that the stairwell door was locked and we couldn't get back up to her floor! We had to sit on the 39th floor and wait until the elevator started up again. My legs were all jelly-ish... I couldn't wait for another bowl of ice-cream to replace the calories I'd just burned.
We ended up watching the movie, and I left around 10:30 to go back home. I had felt a little bad about not coming home for supper tonight because I came home late for the past couple of nights, and hadn't spent a lot of time with my family lately. When I got back, my sister told me that my parents had gone to the airport to pick up my grandma. So I went to check my email and what not... Soon afterwards, my parents came back, and then almost immediately my mom was telling my sister and myself to wash the dishes and hang up the laundry. I took a bunch of towels from the machine and hung them in the basement, and on my way back upstairs, I stopped to check my messages. Almost immediately, my sister starts yelling at me for not helping. I snapped something back about that I'd already done some of the laundry, and she started nitpicking about how much I'd done, or that I didn't help do the dishes... anyway, it was just so retarded because there will be other times where I do the dishes or whatever by myself. It's such a stupid thing to fight about, because there'll always be times that either one of us has to do more or less of the chores. All of a sudden I wasn't even glad to be home anymore.
Anyway, that was my rollercoaster of a day. Tomorrow I have the day off, so I hope it's less dramatic.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Time flies.
I can't believe it's already coming on August. This summer has just slid through my fingers. I feel like it's been full of valuable experiences and memorable lessons, and there aren't many feelings that are better than that of time well spent. Hopefully I'll be able to continue to spend my time meaningfully. Here's a list of things I want to accomplish, or habits to build up, by April 2010.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
a little rant.
Today was not a bad day by any means. In fact, it should be considered a good day, because summer team got to check out the most amazing art drop-in ever, Sketch; Health Centre ended up having a doctor when we were expecting none; and Deb, Esther, Tanaya and I went to Salad King after work to hang out.
As I sit here though, there's a small rumbling in the pit of my being that is just simply unwell. Partly it may be due to that I went by Pinto Park after supper to watch the Miracles practice, but it turned out to be my sister's girls team practicing. I only knew a couple of the girls, as well as the guys that were helping to coach them, but I suppose I just get intimidated by really hardcore softball girls. I was a little disappointed and went home.
The main reason though, was that my coworker, whom I shall call L, was not being very friendly today. In general, she is not the most friendly of people anyway, and I'm aware of it and know how to act and react to her, but today just made me a little more cross than usual. Also because I've been working there almost two months now and I still feel so... patronized?
L is an older lady with three grown children and very conservative worldviews. She has the habit of micromanaging everything and being quite snarky. She also has a way of stating everything very matter-of-fact-ly, which I think is the thing I find the most annoying. For example, when I started working, my schedule was often very jumbled because of training or off-site events. L is not my supervisor; I report to the department head for all my absences. So one day when I came in after an absence, L asked where I had been. When I told her, she said something along the lines of, "Well, nobody told me." I had no response to that... but next time, I made a point to tell her that I was switching a holiday and would not be coming in the next day. I was deliberate to remind her before I left so she wouldn't forget, and then she said, "Yes, I know, you told me already." Just little things like that...
A couple days ago it was deserted in the health centre, so I went upstairs to drop-in to look for a snack or to say hi to my friends. I hung out at the food bar for a bit, chatting with some people and munching. One youth who I know from the health centre was joking around with us - when the staff on food bar came up to serve him, he saw me slacking and said, "No I want Clara to serve me!" (So I served him even though I don't work in drop-in.) Anyway, after that little bit of jocundity, a phone call came from downstairs, and I was told I had to go back down. When I got there, I saw L sitting in the optometry room, counting out her pills... She turned to me, her expression permanently frozen in an uninterested sort of gaze, and drawled, "Are you bored?" I never know what to reply to that (that was not the first time she'd asked me that question before), because I was not bored, actually - I quite enjoy just hanging around people and chatting with them. But I know what she means - she is asking if I want to help her. My strategic rebuttal is, "Do you need help?" Thus putting her in a likewise predicament.
So she got me to help her write out medication labels, which I didn't mind doing. I brought them out with me to the waiting area to chat with a youth while I worked.
L really likes to keep with her regulars. When youth come in who she knows well, she'll come out and have long chats with them. But with new people, she can just be plain... well, rude. I don't think it's meant to be rude, but just short. She told me not to give the health centre business cards to the youth because they'll just lose them (which makes no sense to me, because what use are business cards if they're not given out to the clients?), but she was quick to dole one out to one of her favourite regulars. Meanwhile, she doesn't even bother to remember the names of most of the youth who come in.
L is good at what she does (a dental assistant by trade), but I am constantly being tried when I work with her. Asking her a question requires tremendous humility. Restraining my tongue takes self-control. At the core of it though, I just do not feel dignified when I am around her. L's mannerism is quite demeaning, as if she doesn't trust me to do a good or even proper job. It frustrates me because we are working in an environment that is attempting to empower youth, and edify them. And more often than not, she is rolling her eyes at a youth's short temper (which I have sympathy for, after the street walk) or shaking her head at another youth who got pregnant. She likes to make comparison to her own children, whom she proudly proclaims as being celibate until marriage. I can't see how that attitude is making the youth feel respected.
**This post is not meant to defame L, but only to express my frustrations from working with her. She is admired by those youth to whom she is known and respected even from those she doesn't know. When the regular youth come in, they'll often engage in conversation with her immediately and ask for her advice or help. One youth even went back to school to become a dental hygienist because she was inspired by L.
In light of all this, I may only conclude that L is racist towards Chinese people.
Just kidding! ... I hope!
As I sit here though, there's a small rumbling in the pit of my being that is just simply unwell. Partly it may be due to that I went by Pinto Park after supper to watch the Miracles practice, but it turned out to be my sister's girls team practicing. I only knew a couple of the girls, as well as the guys that were helping to coach them, but I suppose I just get intimidated by really hardcore softball girls. I was a little disappointed and went home.
The main reason though, was that my coworker, whom I shall call L, was not being very friendly today. In general, she is not the most friendly of people anyway, and I'm aware of it and know how to act and react to her, but today just made me a little more cross than usual. Also because I've been working there almost two months now and I still feel so... patronized?
L is an older lady with three grown children and very conservative worldviews. She has the habit of micromanaging everything and being quite snarky. She also has a way of stating everything very matter-of-fact-ly, which I think is the thing I find the most annoying. For example, when I started working, my schedule was often very jumbled because of training or off-site events. L is not my supervisor; I report to the department head for all my absences. So one day when I came in after an absence, L asked where I had been. When I told her, she said something along the lines of, "Well, nobody told me." I had no response to that... but next time, I made a point to tell her that I was switching a holiday and would not be coming in the next day. I was deliberate to remind her before I left so she wouldn't forget, and then she said, "Yes, I know, you told me already." Just little things like that...
A couple days ago it was deserted in the health centre, so I went upstairs to drop-in to look for a snack or to say hi to my friends. I hung out at the food bar for a bit, chatting with some people and munching. One youth who I know from the health centre was joking around with us - when the staff on food bar came up to serve him, he saw me slacking and said, "No I want Clara to serve me!" (So I served him even though I don't work in drop-in.) Anyway, after that little bit of jocundity, a phone call came from downstairs, and I was told I had to go back down. When I got there, I saw L sitting in the optometry room, counting out her pills... She turned to me, her expression permanently frozen in an uninterested sort of gaze, and drawled, "Are you bored?" I never know what to reply to that (that was not the first time she'd asked me that question before), because I was not bored, actually - I quite enjoy just hanging around people and chatting with them. But I know what she means - she is asking if I want to help her. My strategic rebuttal is, "Do you need help?" Thus putting her in a likewise predicament.
So she got me to help her write out medication labels, which I didn't mind doing. I brought them out with me to the waiting area to chat with a youth while I worked.
L really likes to keep with her regulars. When youth come in who she knows well, she'll come out and have long chats with them. But with new people, she can just be plain... well, rude. I don't think it's meant to be rude, but just short. She told me not to give the health centre business cards to the youth because they'll just lose them (which makes no sense to me, because what use are business cards if they're not given out to the clients?), but she was quick to dole one out to one of her favourite regulars. Meanwhile, she doesn't even bother to remember the names of most of the youth who come in.
L is good at what she does (a dental assistant by trade), but I am constantly being tried when I work with her. Asking her a question requires tremendous humility. Restraining my tongue takes self-control. At the core of it though, I just do not feel dignified when I am around her. L's mannerism is quite demeaning, as if she doesn't trust me to do a good or even proper job. It frustrates me because we are working in an environment that is attempting to empower youth, and edify them. And more often than not, she is rolling her eyes at a youth's short temper (which I have sympathy for, after the street walk) or shaking her head at another youth who got pregnant. She likes to make comparison to her own children, whom she proudly proclaims as being celibate until marriage. I can't see how that attitude is making the youth feel respected.
**This post is not meant to defame L, but only to express my frustrations from working with her. She is admired by those youth to whom she is known and respected even from those she doesn't know. When the regular youth come in, they'll often engage in conversation with her immediately and ask for her advice or help. One youth even went back to school to become a dental hygienist because she was inspired by L.
In light of all this, I may only conclude that L is racist towards Chinese people.
Just kidding! ... I hope!
Thursday, July 12, 2007
too much jumbled mess.
There's so much going on in my head these days that I feel like it'll explode. For one thing, I'm still homeless in Waterloo so that's always on the back of my mind and requiring attention and action. Things at work have also been more hectic this week, with more drama going on and longer de-briefing periods after work. Finding out more things that I wish weren't true, things I wish didn't happen in the world. A lot of emotion, a lot of surprises... good ones and bad ones. I don't know what to do with it all, where to put it. It almost made me want to attempt to be poetic, but I'm sure it'd just turn out really Vogon.
I used to hate the fact that as people, we're unable to change other people. I hate that there's so much injustice out there, and so much fear, and we can't do anything. We can't make people stop dealing, or pimping, or beating their kids. We can only watch from the sidelines and tell them to stop.
Slowly I think I'm starting to see the beauty in the fact that we can help people to change. We walk alongside them and help them to see options. We tell them that they don't need to deal or pimp or beat their kids. We show them there are choices and better ways.
It's simple, it's easy, and it's beautiful. It is a chocolate banana muffin, that brings a glimmer of excitement to a newly pregnant girl's eyes. It is a printed-out flyer about a George Brown site visit, that renews hope in a long-time user and re-ignites his ambition to finish high school. It is a mouthful of broken French, that warms a boy, recently moved from Montreal, with familiarity.
There's so much hurt out there still, and hearts still broken. And as much as we'd like to help everybody out there, we just can't. But "surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save" (Is. 59:1). All we can do is partner with Him in His work. But ultimately, it's all His.
Today was a good night to just be in at home and get some rest. Brenda went to softball practice and then out for supper with her team, and my parents drove my grandparents to the airport later in the evening, so I had time to just be alone. I'm trying to work on the solitude and silence thing, and not spend so much time in front of the computer or playing my DS. I've been pretty good about cutting back the TV; I only watch Canada's Next Top Model, which is going to be over after next week! Mom gave me her yoga mat from an exercise set that Bren and I got her for Christmas last year, and I've also been trying to work on stretches, but I've got to be more careful or I'm gonna hurt myself. Tomorrow there's a BBQ for the youth so I have to work late, and then I'm meeting Maggers and Monicar at Boston Pizza.
I used to hate the fact that as people, we're unable to change other people. I hate that there's so much injustice out there, and so much fear, and we can't do anything. We can't make people stop dealing, or pimping, or beating their kids. We can only watch from the sidelines and tell them to stop.
Slowly I think I'm starting to see the beauty in the fact that we can help people to change. We walk alongside them and help them to see options. We tell them that they don't need to deal or pimp or beat their kids. We show them there are choices and better ways.
It's simple, it's easy, and it's beautiful. It is a chocolate banana muffin, that brings a glimmer of excitement to a newly pregnant girl's eyes. It is a printed-out flyer about a George Brown site visit, that renews hope in a long-time user and re-ignites his ambition to finish high school. It is a mouthful of broken French, that warms a boy, recently moved from Montreal, with familiarity.
There's so much hurt out there still, and hearts still broken. And as much as we'd like to help everybody out there, we just can't. But "surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save" (Is. 59:1). All we can do is partner with Him in His work. But ultimately, it's all His.
Today was a good night to just be in at home and get some rest. Brenda went to softball practice and then out for supper with her team, and my parents drove my grandparents to the airport later in the evening, so I had time to just be alone. I'm trying to work on the solitude and silence thing, and not spend so much time in front of the computer or playing my DS. I've been pretty good about cutting back the TV; I only watch Canada's Next Top Model, which is going to be over after next week! Mom gave me her yoga mat from an exercise set that Bren and I got her for Christmas last year, and I've also been trying to work on stretches, but I've got to be more careful or I'm gonna hurt myself. Tomorrow there's a BBQ for the youth so I have to work late, and then I'm meeting Maggers and Monicar at Boston Pizza.
Friday, June 29, 2007
The Friday that felt like Saturday
Today I had a day off work! (It's a makeup holiday because I have to go in on Monday...) I was on a mission to go get my hair cut before meeting up with my sister for lunch, and then with Kat later on in the afternoon. The place Joanna recommended is called Marvel Beauty Schools - hairdressing students wash and cut hair for a low low price. So I left home around 10 to go to Yorkville. Upon arriving there, first I went into the wrong place - I went to the actual hair salon instead of the haircutting school. So they quickly sent me on my way. I put my name down and had to wait for only about five or ten minutes until my name was called. The girl who came to get me was an Asian girl with really long hair, with part of it messily piled up on her head. She introduced herself as Jen, and I smiled as confidently as I could. I told her I just wanted it trimmed and thinned out. Then she said she had to get the teacher to come over and ... set guides for her or something? I was so confused, and really nervous. We made some small talk.. but the teacher came over and explained what to do. Afterwards, Jen washed my hair. I wish she had tied up her hair 'cause some strands of it touched my face when she was leaning over me! Blech! And, she didn't really wash the back of my head (the part that rests on the sink) but I didn't say anything; I didn't want her to spray water down my back by accident.
Then when we got back to the chair, she started evening out the ends. Oh my goodness she was so incredibly slow. Just kinda chilling there... cutting some hair.. chewing her gum. So . s. l..o...w.ly. After she finally finished evening out all the ends, she said, "Does it feel lighter?"
And I'm thinking, No, because you didnt even do anything! So I said... "No,.... not really."
So she had to get her teacher to come over again to tell her how to thin hair with the jagged scissors. And she had absolutely no idea what she was doing... she'd never thinned hair, or had it thinned. Basically I was at the mercy of a Viet-Chinese girl wielding a pair of scissors. The whole ordeal ended up taking about two hours, after the painstaking cutting and then a meticulous blow-dry with a round brush. She said, "Sorry it took so long." What else could I say but, "It's okay"?
I got out of there around 1 o'clock and hurried to meet my sister. I only found out when I met her, that the girl had actually cut my hair all uneven. I tied it up and pouted about it until we found a place to sit down and eat, where I continued to complain more. It's a good thing the haircut only cost $10... And it came with a wash too. I'm just so frightened for when that girl graduates and goes out into the real world to cut real hair for real dollars. It's a ten-month program, she said; she started in January, so after only 6 months, they're out there handling real clients. I don't mind terribly that my hair turned out crappy; I am just so scared for those girls when they graduate... And next time I'll stick to someone tried and true.
So I had lunch with my sister at some noodle place near Yonge & Bloor. We walked around for a bit and then met up with Kat to do some shopping. There was a huge sale at H&M, so we spent a good half hour or more there. We met up with Joanna and Carson for a little bit too, before Kat and Jo were off to the airport to fly to Ottawa for the weekend. Brenda and I had Popeye's for dinner. It was a gorgeous night out; we saw a chess game taking place outside Eaton Centre, and the Chalkmaster hard at work. There was some global music concert going on too. We had frozen yogurt on the subway back while talking about TTC expansions.
Anyway, I was surprised to remember it was only Friday. All along I thought it was Saturday. Tomorrow is our softball season opener. I'm having breakfast with Liv too! Hooray for long weekends. :)
Then when we got back to the chair, she started evening out the ends. Oh my goodness she was so incredibly slow. Just kinda chilling there... cutting some hair.. chewing her gum. So . s. l..o...w.ly. After she finally finished evening out all the ends, she said, "Does it feel lighter?"
And I'm thinking, No, because you didnt even do anything! So I said... "No,.... not really."
So she had to get her teacher to come over again to tell her how to thin hair with the jagged scissors. And she had absolutely no idea what she was doing... she'd never thinned hair, or had it thinned. Basically I was at the mercy of a Viet-Chinese girl wielding a pair of scissors. The whole ordeal ended up taking about two hours, after the painstaking cutting and then a meticulous blow-dry with a round brush. She said, "Sorry it took so long." What else could I say but, "It's okay"?
I got out of there around 1 o'clock and hurried to meet my sister. I only found out when I met her, that the girl had actually cut my hair all uneven. I tied it up and pouted about it until we found a place to sit down and eat, where I continued to complain more. It's a good thing the haircut only cost $10... And it came with a wash too. I'm just so frightened for when that girl graduates and goes out into the real world to cut real hair for real dollars. It's a ten-month program, she said; she started in January, so after only 6 months, they're out there handling real clients. I don't mind terribly that my hair turned out crappy; I am just so scared for those girls when they graduate... And next time I'll stick to someone tried and true.
So I had lunch with my sister at some noodle place near Yonge & Bloor. We walked around for a bit and then met up with Kat to do some shopping. There was a huge sale at H&M, so we spent a good half hour or more there. We met up with Joanna and Carson for a little bit too, before Kat and Jo were off to the airport to fly to Ottawa for the weekend. Brenda and I had Popeye's for dinner. It was a gorgeous night out; we saw a chess game taking place outside Eaton Centre, and the Chalkmaster hard at work. There was some global music concert going on too. We had frozen yogurt on the subway back while talking about TTC expansions.
Anyway, I was surprised to remember it was only Friday. All along I thought it was Saturday. Tomorrow is our softball season opener. I'm having breakfast with Liv too! Hooray for long weekends. :)
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Random Thoughts from Exodus.
Every day the health centre ladies do devotionals at 11am. They take turns reading from a Women's Devotional Bible and then we share requests for the youth, and pray together. Last week, I think it was Beth who read from Exodus 3 - Moses and the Burning Bush. As a child, I learned about Moses; he was a shepherd, and one day he saw a bush that was on fire, but wasn't being burnt up and consumed. Intrigued, he approached it, and God spoke to him from the bush, telling him to deliver the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. Moses was all like, No way, God, I'm not good at public speaking, go ask Aaron to do it! And God's like, No, I want you to go do it. Moses puts up all these excuses, and God performs a couple miracles to assure Moses of the authority he's been given... And finally Moses goes to Pharaoh to demand the release of the Israelites. And then we get the whole part with the plagues - frogs, flies, locusts, darkness, etc - until Pharaoh relents and lets the Israelites go. Later, Pharaoh changes his mind and sends his army to chase them down, and that's when Moses does the parting of the Red Sea, and the Israelites are finally free! After that, they are stuck wandering around in the desert for 40 years until they get into Canaan, because they continually show their lack of faith in God to provide.
That's a very brief synopsis of what happens with Moses, and is not meant to trivialize all the powerful events that took place. I like reading from Exodus a lot, but definitely not more than my dad. My dad loves Exodus. Partly because I think he relates a lot to it. My father suffered and suffers from depression, so he often makes analogies of his life to the Israelites wandering in the desert. Living and dealing with someone with depression is difficult and often frustrating. Sometimes my dad won't want to do anything, or will attribute his lack of motivation or energy to depression. From my sister's and my point of view, it seemed like an excuse all the time. There was a period where my parents fought all the time, and I cried a lot, wondering if they would split up. The worst (I believe) of his illness has passed, so I thank God that he seems to have gained a lot more strength over the past year or two. I was very pleasantly surprised that he managed to be supportive of my potentially going to Chicago for optometry school. Even though he was very worried about the financial cost, he (and my mom and sister) went to check out the school with me for my interview, and helped me to pay the tuition deposit. My dad jokes a lot about wanting to retire, so I often ask him questions about where he wants to retire, or what he wants to do. I really hope that the end of the desert wandering will be over soon. I suppose handling depression may be a lifelong battle, but he's made a lot of progress in terms of recognizing his own need to trust in God. I can't wait to see what his Canaan is like.
Moses is one of those biblical poster heroes, just like Joseph and David and Samuel. In children's Sunday School, we always are taught that these people just listened to God and saved lots of people's lives, so we should be like them - faithful and courageous. I learned a different story last year, though, that my mother taught me. I think we had been talking about missions, and having a heart to serve and stuff. And I had said that, I don't think God ever tells us to do something we'd really hate. My example was that I don't want to live anywhere without electricity or running water, so I bet God would just somebody else who wants to do missions in rural areas and can handle the lifestyle. But my mom brought me back to this story, this example. Moses definitely did not want to go to Egypt to make a stand against Pharaoh, but God still chose him anyway. It's the same case with a number of other characters, like Gideon and Jonah. Lesson was: God chooses people. You might not like it, or want to do it... and you can try to make excuses, or even run away... but when God chooses you, you have to act. Not to say that I am going to do missions in a third world country now (or yet?), but it definitely opened up a new perspective for me. Between bouts of being really silly and really insane, my mother actually has pretty good insights to give.
Lastly, is the thought that struck me just last week during the devotional; this time the bush stuck out to me. At Evergreen they always encourage us to take care of ourselves foremost, because if we're all tired and crabby and stuff, we're not useful to anyone or to God. And as Beth was reading, I thought... I really wanna be that bush. All lit up and ablaze for God, and not being consumed, or burnt up (or burnt out, in my case). Intriguing people and drawing them nearer to God until He says to them, "Do not come any closer. Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground." And I, the bush, would be rooted in that holy place.
That's a very brief synopsis of what happens with Moses, and is not meant to trivialize all the powerful events that took place. I like reading from Exodus a lot, but definitely not more than my dad. My dad loves Exodus. Partly because I think he relates a lot to it. My father suffered and suffers from depression, so he often makes analogies of his life to the Israelites wandering in the desert. Living and dealing with someone with depression is difficult and often frustrating. Sometimes my dad won't want to do anything, or will attribute his lack of motivation or energy to depression. From my sister's and my point of view, it seemed like an excuse all the time. There was a period where my parents fought all the time, and I cried a lot, wondering if they would split up. The worst (I believe) of his illness has passed, so I thank God that he seems to have gained a lot more strength over the past year or two. I was very pleasantly surprised that he managed to be supportive of my potentially going to Chicago for optometry school. Even though he was very worried about the financial cost, he (and my mom and sister) went to check out the school with me for my interview, and helped me to pay the tuition deposit. My dad jokes a lot about wanting to retire, so I often ask him questions about where he wants to retire, or what he wants to do. I really hope that the end of the desert wandering will be over soon. I suppose handling depression may be a lifelong battle, but he's made a lot of progress in terms of recognizing his own need to trust in God. I can't wait to see what his Canaan is like.
Moses is one of those biblical poster heroes, just like Joseph and David and Samuel. In children's Sunday School, we always are taught that these people just listened to God and saved lots of people's lives, so we should be like them - faithful and courageous. I learned a different story last year, though, that my mother taught me. I think we had been talking about missions, and having a heart to serve and stuff. And I had said that, I don't think God ever tells us to do something we'd really hate. My example was that I don't want to live anywhere without electricity or running water, so I bet God would just somebody else who wants to do missions in rural areas and can handle the lifestyle. But my mom brought me back to this story, this example. Moses definitely did not want to go to Egypt to make a stand against Pharaoh, but God still chose him anyway. It's the same case with a number of other characters, like Gideon and Jonah. Lesson was: God chooses people. You might not like it, or want to do it... and you can try to make excuses, or even run away... but when God chooses you, you have to act. Not to say that I am going to do missions in a third world country now (or yet?), but it definitely opened up a new perspective for me. Between bouts of being really silly and really insane, my mother actually has pretty good insights to give.
Lastly, is the thought that struck me just last week during the devotional; this time the bush stuck out to me. At Evergreen they always encourage us to take care of ourselves foremost, because if we're all tired and crabby and stuff, we're not useful to anyone or to God. And as Beth was reading, I thought... I really wanna be that bush. All lit up and ablaze for God, and not being consumed, or burnt up (or burnt out, in my case). Intriguing people and drawing them nearer to God until He says to them, "Do not come any closer. Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground." And I, the bush, would be rooted in that holy place.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Sunday June 10. 12am-8am.
I don't know how long we sat there.. I kind of wished we could just sleep there; the cement thing was sloped so we could recline a bit as we sat. But, the others were determined to get some sleep that night, so we had to start walking back to Queen's Park.
The walk back was the most painful thing I've ever done. I'm not sure why we couldn't just sleep somewhere along the way. Pain was shooting up both legs, in every possible place. My calf and hamstrings were taut, my quadriceps were throbbing... even my adductors were tight. Soleus, gastrocnemius... all the anatomy I'd learned last term raced through my head, as if knowing the names of what was hurting would make it the pain bearable. Steve, Deb, and Tanaya led the way, while Hanna, Mika, and I trailed behind, prisoners of our own bodies. Deep inside, there was a rage that I didn't anticipate I'd experience. I was mad at my body for being so weak, mad at my group for being so insensitive, mad at the city for being so big. In my childhood days I might have plopped down on the ground stubbornly, refusing to go any further, possibly bursting into tears so my parents would carry me the rest of the way. But I wasn't a child anymore. But I wasn't really an adult either. Adults don't depend on other people for food and money and shelter... What are homeless or street people, then, if neither child nor adult?
We stopped frequently to rest. It was a tremendously long walk. When we got to Queen's Park, it wasn't even over... we back to
Finally, we were back in Queen's Park, with newspapers laid out. The night was much warmer than the previous one. I was taking the first guard shift, mostly because nobody else volunteered to and I felt like I hadn't been contributing much to the group. As everyone else dozed off, I tried to mentally do the crossword puzzle in the paper (I didn't have a pen). I laid back after I got stuck, and tried to stay alert. I'd open my eyes and peer about between periods of closing them to rest.
Eventually I think I sort of dozed off, waking when I heard shuffling of newspapers. At that point, Deb was still awake. We found out the time from Tanaya, and my shift was done, so Deb took over and I was allowed to properly sleep. It didn't last for long though, because a little later we heard Deb hiss that there were cops coming. We all woke up and frantically started gathering up our newspaper - in retrospect, I don't know why we did this instead of just running for it. The cops approached us though (they may actually have been security guards; we could not tell and did not want to find out), and said that we couldn't sleep there. Deb handled the situation with courtesy and ease, making me so glad that I wasn't in charge. She replied quickly that we were out of there, and very sorry. Saying sorry for anything was becoming an impossible task for me this weekend. Especially in this situation... why did we have to be sorry? For sleeping in a public area? For existing? If anything, the cops should be sorry, or the city. They should apologize that there's so much open space, so much opportunity in the city, and a homeless youth still can't get a break. Apologizing is such an easy way to diffuse any situation, to stay out of trouble... but I was too proud for that.
So we got kicked out of the park. We walked back to the Tim Hortons at Charles and Bay, and pulled the same thing as last night - bought an XL-hot chocolate to share. This time we spread out and put our heads down to nap for longer as well. I thank God for that Tim Hortons - the manager, the employees, whoever - for letting us sleep there. We were so used to being kicked out of anywhere we were, that just being allowed to be somewhere was a nice gesture.
Around 5:30, the sun was starting to come up, so we spent the last bit of time before breakfast at Nathan Phillip’s Square. I laid down on a bench by the pond and fell asleep, waking up again later when my body temperature had fallen too much. Everyone else had passed out on their own benches too. I got up and found a patch of sunlight between the tall buildings and squatted there. Another youth, presumably also street-involved, made a nonchalant comment as she walked by, something like “It’s nice with the sun out, eh?” I looked at Mika and Hanna, who took turns sleeping on each other’s laps, and was glad that at least they had each other during this experience in a foreign city. Deb, Tanaya and Steve had woken up too and were sitting on a bench chatting. This nightmarish weekend would be over soon. It felt so surreal… In just over an hour, we’d all fill our stomachs with hot breakfast prepared by Carolyn. We’d go to our homes, see our parents, bathe. We'd get to change our clothes, eat, and rest. But there might not be an end in sight for some of the people we'd met. Their whole lives might be a cycle of pennypinching and charity, being unsure of how they would eat or where they'd sleep, but knowing that they would and must manage somehow. The only uncertainty for me now was how I'd live in light of all this.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Saturday June 9. 6pm-12am.
Deb, Tanaya, and I found pews in the nearly empty sanctuary. There were maybe three other people there. The same guy from before dinner was sharing a little bit about material possessions and how we shouldn't value them too highly. Sitting there, I didn't feel like it applied very much... I didn't even own anything at that point. Did the guy think that homeless people had the problem of valuing material things?
As I sat there, I rested my head on the pew. Eyeing the stained glass windows, I remembered being back in choir, and singing in churches. (In particular, we sang frequently at Metropolitan United Church, which I did pass by earlier that day.) Staring past the speaking guy, I remembered studying architecture of churches and cathedrals in Grade 11 Art History. I tried naming off the terms, but after nave, ambulatory, and rose window, I was at a loss. I wondered if I would get kicked out for sleeping in the church... I doubted it, but I didn't really want to find out. I thought I'd feel much more safe and welcome inside the church, but a little part of me still resented the kindness that was being offered. It was degrading relying on other people's charity. No matter how much I appreciated the food, the sweater, the hospitality... I still resented them all. They got to go home afterwards and be with their families, watch TV or read books, pet their dogs, shower, and change their clothes to go to sleep in their beds. They served us warm food and smiles, and would forget us instantly until the next time they did their charity work.
The sharing lasted only a short while, and soon us three girls were back in Allen Gardens. We opted for another nap because we were so ridiculously tired. So we spread out our sweaters on the grass and dozed lightly in the glow of the evening sun.
A half hour later we woke up and decided to walk over to Spadina and Queen because Tanaya had overheard some people talking about free KFC. We stopped by Dundas Square to take a look at the shops that were set up, but our business (or lack thereof) was not very welcome. When we got to Spadina and Queen, we had no idea where there even was a KFC, so we walked back east. Along the way, we tried to spot any other 24h Tim Hortons in case we had to move around to different places again tonight.
Around... I dont know, 9:30...? we bought a can of pop to share and sat down to chat. It was quite pleasant to just sit around and hang out with Tanaya and Deb. We weren't on a mission, or trying to pan, or anything, so we just sat around and talked. Deb continually astounds me with the strength of her character.
At 11 we met Steve, Hanna and Mika across the Metro Convention Centre, at the memorial for people who were killed in workplace accidents. They had sat there for most of the night because Mika and Hanna had blisters on their feet. All six of us then started walking down towards Harbourfront for the Luminato light show. We made it past the Rogers Centre, but then we found this big blocky cement thing where we could sit and have a decent view, so we never made it all the way there. I sat back, watching the rays of light dance in the dark sky. I wished it were some sort of bat signal for a saviour, someone to take us out of this misery and to make everything fair in the world, and to make my friggin legs and feet stop hurting.
As I sat there, I rested my head on the pew. Eyeing the stained glass windows, I remembered being back in choir, and singing in churches. (In particular, we sang frequently at Metropolitan United Church, which I did pass by earlier that day.) Staring past the speaking guy, I remembered studying architecture of churches and cathedrals in Grade 11 Art History. I tried naming off the terms, but after nave, ambulatory, and rose window, I was at a loss. I wondered if I would get kicked out for sleeping in the church... I doubted it, but I didn't really want to find out. I thought I'd feel much more safe and welcome inside the church, but a little part of me still resented the kindness that was being offered. It was degrading relying on other people's charity. No matter how much I appreciated the food, the sweater, the hospitality... I still resented them all. They got to go home afterwards and be with their families, watch TV or read books, pet their dogs, shower, and change their clothes to go to sleep in their beds. They served us warm food and smiles, and would forget us instantly until the next time they did their charity work.
The sharing lasted only a short while, and soon us three girls were back in Allen Gardens. We opted for another nap because we were so ridiculously tired. So we spread out our sweaters on the grass and dozed lightly in the glow of the evening sun.
A half hour later we woke up and decided to walk over to Spadina and Queen because Tanaya had overheard some people talking about free KFC. We stopped by Dundas Square to take a look at the shops that were set up, but our business (or lack thereof) was not very welcome. When we got to Spadina and Queen, we had no idea where there even was a KFC, so we walked back east. Along the way, we tried to spot any other 24h Tim Hortons in case we had to move around to different places again tonight.
Around... I dont know, 9:30...? we bought a can of pop to share and sat down to chat. It was quite pleasant to just sit around and hang out with Tanaya and Deb. We weren't on a mission, or trying to pan, or anything, so we just sat around and talked. Deb continually astounds me with the strength of her character.
At 11 we met Steve, Hanna and Mika across the Metro Convention Centre, at the memorial for people who were killed in workplace accidents. They had sat there for most of the night because Mika and Hanna had blisters on their feet. All six of us then started walking down towards Harbourfront for the Luminato light show. We made it past the Rogers Centre, but then we found this big blocky cement thing where we could sit and have a decent view, so we never made it all the way there. I sat back, watching the rays of light dance in the dark sky. I wished it were some sort of bat signal for a saviour, someone to take us out of this misery and to make everything fair in the world, and to make my friggin legs and feet stop hurting.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Saturday June 9. 12pm-6pm.
Deb, Mika, and Hanna were already waiting for us when we arrived at the Eaton Centre. We went inside to sit in the food court where we'd have some relief from the blistering sun, and be able to get off our feet for a bit. There was something different about being in the mall just to eat and rest, though. The shops were unimportant - it didn't matter what was on sale, and where. Even fast food was too rich for our blood. I know this sort of poverty is an exaggeration of street life, because street-involved youth can actually make a lot of money if they're into dealing and prostitution. I guess our experience was more like that of fresh runaways, before they get sucked into that sort of life.
We ate our hungrily burgers and shared the juice. For dessert we had candy that was handed out in little sample packages at the street corner. I felt terribly for Steve and Mika, knowing that they must be incredibly unsatisfied with only the same amount of food that us girls ate comfortably. (Mika had plowed through most of his burger by the time we'd sat down and decided to pray together.)
After we cleaned up our meal, we used the bathrooms and then left. I was with Steve and Deb now. Our new mission was to find sleeping bags for tonight. We walked through the Regent Park area only to find that the place we were headed to that ran a sleeping bag exchange was closed on Saturdays. So we went to Double Take and the Salvation Army thrift store to see if there were sleeping bags or blankets for cheap. There was nothing we could afford... but at least I got to test out a few chairs and rest my feet. The three of us also went to the library for a bit to kill time. There's not a whole lot to do, or places to go, when you're scared of not fitting in and of getting kicked out. We also walked down George Street, which is supposed to be a really sketchy street with lots of lonely men living there, but during the day it seemed okay. The houses were rundown, with crooked wire fences, and people leering at us from their porches. We saw the Seaton House, the men's shelter that Carolyn warned us about.
Eventually we ended up on Front Street. Steve was hungry again, so we stopped in a McDonald's. We can't help it, the food is so cheap there! So Steve got a double cheeseburger, and Deb and I shared a strawberry sundae. It felt so good to eat for fun again and not merely for survival. Outside, a whole party of people and their dogs were eating and taking in some sun. There were Malteses and Chihuahuas, a sad looking pug, and one incredibly tiny and cute terrier. I was reminded of my late dog, and wished for the day when I'd be able to own another. I also told Deb about how conflicted I feel when I see ugly guys with really cute dogs. Sorry, but it had to be said.
After this stop, we wandered back up to Sherbourne and Carlton where we were going to have supper. The guy at McDonald's had told us the wrong time, though, so we arrived there a full hour before our actual meeting time. We ended up lying down for a nap in Allen Gardens until Mika, Hanna, and Tanaya showed up.
At five o'clock, we went to Cornerstone Urban Church for supper. A guy sang some songs and prayed in the sanctuary, and then we were ushered into another room for supper. We were split up as we entered, being pointed to whatever vacant spot there was. We were given a plate with pasta, a bun, and three pieces of chicken, and a piece of cake for dessert. This was not a bad meal at all! The servers also very nice, offering juice and coffee to us. Deb and I sat across from each other, but we didn't really talk. We were too busy stuffing our faces. It was mostly older folk around us, some immigrants, probably some who had lost their jobs. The anonymity was nice. There was no fear of being interrogated here, of trying to be saved, of being somebody's project.
We finished eating, and promptly were out the door. On the way out, we stopped by the clothing table, and Tanaya and I picked up an extra sweater for the night. I observed a rather large lady in a motorized wheelchair pick up an extra-small tanktop and hold it up to her enormous chest. It reminded me of the time I was shopping with friends at Garage in Cambridge, when I saw two tall blonde girls excitedly grab black sweatpants from the same rack I was looking at - "There's only extra-small left... But let's try them on anyway, they're only five dollars!"
Anyway...
After we were back outdoors in the park, we all hung around a bit to chat before we split up again. Mika and Hanna were thoroughly exhausted; they were not accustomed to so much walking. Tanaya had taken them to eat some bread today though, just like the kind they get at home, so they were in much better spirits. Hanna had said she didn't even feel homeless anymore. Mika said, it was as if God had come down and said hello. Mika, it turned out, was becoming the only thing keeping me sane this weekend. He was comic relief, and was always smiling. I wondered sometimes if he understood the gravity of what we were doing, because he never really had to worry about where to go and what to do next, but it was also a good reminder for me to not take it so seriously. Homeless people can be happy too! And taking Mika and Hanna around this weekend... Well, it's a little bit like when parents try not to argue in front of the children. We all tried extra hard to keep the peace in the group for the sake of Mika and Hanna. We had become their protectors and guardians in this foreign city, working together and in shifts to keep them safe. But I can imagine it's tough for street youth and homeless people to stick together. As the weekend was progressing, I found myself wanting to pull away from the group. If I couldn't control our circumstances, or the people around me, I had to at least maintain control of myself. Homeless people don't really have privileges; I bet they aren't even sure of their rights. We sure as heck didn't know what our rights were when that cop came to harass Steve that morning. I needed to find a way to stop myself from being pushed around by my own group; I was already been pushed around enough by the world.
At ten past six, we split up again. Deb, Tanaya and I decided to go back to Cornerstone for the message that followed dinner, hoping that they would offer us something to fill our spirits as well as our stomachs.
We ate our hungrily burgers and shared the juice. For dessert we had candy that was handed out in little sample packages at the street corner. I felt terribly for Steve and Mika, knowing that they must be incredibly unsatisfied with only the same amount of food that us girls ate comfortably. (Mika had plowed through most of his burger by the time we'd sat down and decided to pray together.)
After we cleaned up our meal, we used the bathrooms and then left. I was with Steve and Deb now. Our new mission was to find sleeping bags for tonight. We walked through the Regent Park area only to find that the place we were headed to that ran a sleeping bag exchange was closed on Saturdays. So we went to Double Take and the Salvation Army thrift store to see if there were sleeping bags or blankets for cheap. There was nothing we could afford... but at least I got to test out a few chairs and rest my feet. The three of us also went to the library for a bit to kill time. There's not a whole lot to do, or places to go, when you're scared of not fitting in and of getting kicked out. We also walked down George Street, which is supposed to be a really sketchy street with lots of lonely men living there, but during the day it seemed okay. The houses were rundown, with crooked wire fences, and people leering at us from their porches. We saw the Seaton House, the men's shelter that Carolyn warned us about.
Eventually we ended up on Front Street. Steve was hungry again, so we stopped in a McDonald's. We can't help it, the food is so cheap there! So Steve got a double cheeseburger, and Deb and I shared a strawberry sundae. It felt so good to eat for fun again and not merely for survival. Outside, a whole party of people and their dogs were eating and taking in some sun. There were Malteses and Chihuahuas, a sad looking pug, and one incredibly tiny and cute terrier. I was reminded of my late dog, and wished for the day when I'd be able to own another. I also told Deb about how conflicted I feel when I see ugly guys with really cute dogs. Sorry, but it had to be said.
After this stop, we wandered back up to Sherbourne and Carlton where we were going to have supper. The guy at McDonald's had told us the wrong time, though, so we arrived there a full hour before our actual meeting time. We ended up lying down for a nap in Allen Gardens until Mika, Hanna, and Tanaya showed up.
At five o'clock, we went to Cornerstone Urban Church for supper. A guy sang some songs and prayed in the sanctuary, and then we were ushered into another room for supper. We were split up as we entered, being pointed to whatever vacant spot there was. We were given a plate with pasta, a bun, and three pieces of chicken, and a piece of cake for dessert. This was not a bad meal at all! The servers also very nice, offering juice and coffee to us. Deb and I sat across from each other, but we didn't really talk. We were too busy stuffing our faces. It was mostly older folk around us, some immigrants, probably some who had lost their jobs. The anonymity was nice. There was no fear of being interrogated here, of trying to be saved, of being somebody's project.
We finished eating, and promptly were out the door. On the way out, we stopped by the clothing table, and Tanaya and I picked up an extra sweater for the night. I observed a rather large lady in a motorized wheelchair pick up an extra-small tanktop and hold it up to her enormous chest. It reminded me of the time I was shopping with friends at Garage in Cambridge, when I saw two tall blonde girls excitedly grab black sweatpants from the same rack I was looking at - "There's only extra-small left... But let's try them on anyway, they're only five dollars!"
Anyway...
After we were back outdoors in the park, we all hung around a bit to chat before we split up again. Mika and Hanna were thoroughly exhausted; they were not accustomed to so much walking. Tanaya had taken them to eat some bread today though, just like the kind they get at home, so they were in much better spirits. Hanna had said she didn't even feel homeless anymore. Mika said, it was as if God had come down and said hello. Mika, it turned out, was becoming the only thing keeping me sane this weekend. He was comic relief, and was always smiling. I wondered sometimes if he understood the gravity of what we were doing, because he never really had to worry about where to go and what to do next, but it was also a good reminder for me to not take it so seriously. Homeless people can be happy too! And taking Mika and Hanna around this weekend... Well, it's a little bit like when parents try not to argue in front of the children. We all tried extra hard to keep the peace in the group for the sake of Mika and Hanna. We had become their protectors and guardians in this foreign city, working together and in shifts to keep them safe. But I can imagine it's tough for street youth and homeless people to stick together. As the weekend was progressing, I found myself wanting to pull away from the group. If I couldn't control our circumstances, or the people around me, I had to at least maintain control of myself. Homeless people don't really have privileges; I bet they aren't even sure of their rights. We sure as heck didn't know what our rights were when that cop came to harass Steve that morning. I needed to find a way to stop myself from being pushed around by my own group; I was already been pushed around enough by the world.
At ten past six, we split up again. Deb, Tanaya and I decided to go back to Cornerstone for the message that followed dinner, hoping that they would offer us something to fill our spirits as well as our stomachs.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Saturday June 9. 6am-12pm.
Steve, Tanaya, and I were on a mission. We needed a place to crash. We walked through some random parks... I don't even know where we were at that point. Maybe at Yonge and Charles? We ended up in the lot near a church called Sanctuary. All the park benches had metal armrests right down the middle, forbidding us to sleep there. So, we laid down some old Metro newspapers and fell asleep.
An hour later, I woke up again, shivering. When you fall asleep, your body temperature falls to the ambient temperature. It was still far too cold outside. Tanaya also woke, and we went off in search of a bathroom. We went to McDonalds, where we bought a sausage McMuffin and split it three ways, bringing the last third of the tiny sandwich back to the still-sleeping Steve.
As the sun climbed higher into the sky, we moved to sleep under its warmth, basking like the cold-blooded reptiles I'd learned about in zoology last term. I wish I were a crocodile, with its dark leathery skin - all the better to absorb sunlight with.
A couple of hours later, we woke again, around 10. This time, we decided to get up and move on before trouble found us. In this game, it was all about escaping some invisible predator. Being one step ahead of an imaingery enemy. We went back to the McDonald's to use the bathroom again before we set off on the day's adventure. Steve went inside first, and when he came back out, Tanaya and I went inside.
Just as we were headed back outside, trouble found us. A policeman walked up to where Steve was sitting on a milkcrate outside the McDonald's entrance. Tanaya and I just stared. What were we to do? We decided to let him handle it.
The cop asked Steve for ID, and his permanent address. Steve kept up the act, going along with the cop's interrogation. No, he replied, the address on his health card was no longer current. He was gonna get written up for something. Panning? Loitering?
"I thought you just weren't allowed to be outside of banks or subway stops," Steve objected. Those were the rules we had been told. Don't pan outside banks or TTC stops.
"Nope, there are by-laws against being anywhere on the street. It's technically against the law for you to even take up space on the sidewalk," the cop replies, between giving short commands on his radio.
Eventually, the cop let Steve go with a warning because he had no criminal record. We were all shocked and shaken by this run-in though. Clearly the boys in blue were out to get us. We had to be more careful.
We spent the next hour just walking. I don't remember where we went, or what we saw. I just know we walked, soaking in the urban culture, trying to blend in, and at the same time, deep down, really not wanting to.
Around 11:30, we began our trek back to the Eaton Centre to meet the rest of our entourage. In Allen Garden though, we saw a mob forming, and billowing clouds of smoke... Barbecue!! We ran across the street and encountered ... (dah-dah-dah) The Holy Spirit On Wheels! No kidding, that was the name of the truck. Street Connection was hosting a free barbecue for people living in the community. We quickly lined up with everyone else. While we waited, we watched the activity going on. The volunteers manning the barbecue were sweating bullets, frantically wiping off their brows on their sleeves while trying not to burn the hamburger patties. It was an especially sunny and hot day, but I felt even warmer inside as I thought of these people spending their Saturdays serving the poor. A van-load of oranges had been unloaded on the grass for families to take home. The three of us looked on with disgust as people picked through the bags for the batch with the least mold. A group of men in front of us were throwing around and playing with a tennis ball of an orange, laughing crudely at the mess it made when splattered on the sidewalk. A lady in a wheelchair yelled at them to throw the orange in a garbage can, and called them lazy when they didn't. Watching marginalized people fight with each other reminds me of a scene in an episode of Family Guy, where Joe's police truck cloaks itself as two homeless people fighting over a wedge of cheese. There's something especially sad about homeless people in disagreement. I guess because, in general they are already shunned by society, yet they can't even get a break from other marginalized people.
A lady walked down the queue asking everyone in line if they knew Jesus. I wouldn't be surprised if people said yes just so she'd go away.
When we reached the front, we grabbed two burgers each, to bring to Hanna, Mika, and Deb. Two little girls also gave us bags of expired Capri-Sun juice to take on our way. I kept telling myself that it was very nice for people and corporations to provide food for those in need, but why was everything moldy and expired? (I couldn't help but wonder for a second if the burgers were safe for consumption.) It's a good thing that food doesn't go to waste, and these people were thankful for whatever they could get for free, but I wonder what it does to a person's esteem to receive only what's rotten and leftover from the rest of society.
Anyway, let's not look a gift horse in the mouth. We were very thankful for the burgers, but we were also very late. We quickly ran off to meet our group at the Eaton Centre.
An hour later, I woke up again, shivering. When you fall asleep, your body temperature falls to the ambient temperature. It was still far too cold outside. Tanaya also woke, and we went off in search of a bathroom. We went to McDonalds, where we bought a sausage McMuffin and split it three ways, bringing the last third of the tiny sandwich back to the still-sleeping Steve.
As the sun climbed higher into the sky, we moved to sleep under its warmth, basking like the cold-blooded reptiles I'd learned about in zoology last term. I wish I were a crocodile, with its dark leathery skin - all the better to absorb sunlight with.
A couple of hours later, we woke again, around 10. This time, we decided to get up and move on before trouble found us. In this game, it was all about escaping some invisible predator. Being one step ahead of an imaingery enemy. We went back to the McDonald's to use the bathroom again before we set off on the day's adventure. Steve went inside first, and when he came back out, Tanaya and I went inside.
Just as we were headed back outside, trouble found us. A policeman walked up to where Steve was sitting on a milkcrate outside the McDonald's entrance. Tanaya and I just stared. What were we to do? We decided to let him handle it.
The cop asked Steve for ID, and his permanent address. Steve kept up the act, going along with the cop's interrogation. No, he replied, the address on his health card was no longer current. He was gonna get written up for something. Panning? Loitering?
"I thought you just weren't allowed to be outside of banks or subway stops," Steve objected. Those were the rules we had been told. Don't pan outside banks or TTC stops.
"Nope, there are by-laws against being anywhere on the street. It's technically against the law for you to even take up space on the sidewalk," the cop replies, between giving short commands on his radio.
Eventually, the cop let Steve go with a warning because he had no criminal record. We were all shocked and shaken by this run-in though. Clearly the boys in blue were out to get us. We had to be more careful.
We spent the next hour just walking. I don't remember where we went, or what we saw. I just know we walked, soaking in the urban culture, trying to blend in, and at the same time, deep down, really not wanting to.
Around 11:30, we began our trek back to the Eaton Centre to meet the rest of our entourage. In Allen Garden though, we saw a mob forming, and billowing clouds of smoke... Barbecue!! We ran across the street and encountered ... (dah-dah-dah) The Holy Spirit On Wheels! No kidding, that was the name of the truck. Street Connection was hosting a free barbecue for people living in the community. We quickly lined up with everyone else. While we waited, we watched the activity going on. The volunteers manning the barbecue were sweating bullets, frantically wiping off their brows on their sleeves while trying not to burn the hamburger patties. It was an especially sunny and hot day, but I felt even warmer inside as I thought of these people spending their Saturdays serving the poor. A van-load of oranges had been unloaded on the grass for families to take home. The three of us looked on with disgust as people picked through the bags for the batch with the least mold. A group of men in front of us were throwing around and playing with a tennis ball of an orange, laughing crudely at the mess it made when splattered on the sidewalk. A lady in a wheelchair yelled at them to throw the orange in a garbage can, and called them lazy when they didn't. Watching marginalized people fight with each other reminds me of a scene in an episode of Family Guy, where Joe's police truck cloaks itself as two homeless people fighting over a wedge of cheese. There's something especially sad about homeless people in disagreement. I guess because, in general they are already shunned by society, yet they can't even get a break from other marginalized people.
A lady walked down the queue asking everyone in line if they knew Jesus. I wouldn't be surprised if people said yes just so she'd go away.
When we reached the front, we grabbed two burgers each, to bring to Hanna, Mika, and Deb. Two little girls also gave us bags of expired Capri-Sun juice to take on our way. I kept telling myself that it was very nice for people and corporations to provide food for those in need, but why was everything moldy and expired? (I couldn't help but wonder for a second if the burgers were safe for consumption.) It's a good thing that food doesn't go to waste, and these people were thankful for whatever they could get for free, but I wonder what it does to a person's esteem to receive only what's rotten and leftover from the rest of society.
Anyway, let's not look a gift horse in the mouth. We were very thankful for the burgers, but we were also very late. We quickly ran off to meet our group at the Eaton Centre.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Saturday June 9. 12am - 6am.
We found each other easily, right at the corner of Yonge and College. Steve said he had seen a well-lit park where we could sleep, so we headed over. It was near Queen's Park, but I think a little west of the subway station. We laid down our cardboard under a stadium-esque lamp, and put Steve on duty for the first guard shift. I laid back on my makeshift mattress, with another folded cardboard box over me as a sad sort of blanket. I closed my eyes, exhausted to the bone, but pumped with adrenaline. Survival mde had kicked in. My mind was racing: I wanted to be home, I wanted to be warm, why didn't I bring a jacket, why did Jasleen win on America's Next Top Model?
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because some time later, I came to again, shivering. The day had been windy, with little sun, and by now the earth had cooled and any residual warmth had gone. Wind was creeping into the holes of the cardboard, up into my hoodie, right down to my core. I could not stop shaking. I looked around and saw Tanaya similarly trying to huddle into an ever smaller ball. We both could not sleep, it was too cold.
We woke everyone else up. Mika was fast asleep, but he'd served in the army in Finland, so go figure. Having no other choice, we walked back to College Park. We decided to go to the 24-hour Dominion's to buy something to eat. Mika and Hanna wanted to get a loaf of bread; they had been mentioning that idea all day. I guess they really miss the bread they eat in Finland, I think it's rye. My attention was stolen by a vegetarian focaccia, which I will adoringly remember as the Pizza Bread. It was greasy and beautiful, ornate with its different coloured peppers, and smelled fantastic - it was a memoir of the life I'd left. With the five dollars I'd gotten earlier, it was affordable, at four dollars, but it would not leave much for tomorrow. I clung to the Pizza Bread as we all walked over to the cereal aisle, after Tanaya suggested we buy a box of cereal.
It was another long headache, trying to choose between the classic Life cereal or the cinnamon one. We ended up getting the classic one because it was 650 g instead of 590. Everything was about cost efficiency now.
"I vote against getting the Pizza Bread," Steve suddenly opined.
I recoiled, as if he'd personally attacked me.
"Yeah, it looks sort of greasy," Tanaya put in.
What, like suddenly homeless people don't eat greasy food? What was there left to live for?
"Plus, I don't like any of the toppings on it."
This whole communist idea was not working for me. It was my five dollars, that Tracy and Lucia gave to me. How did this suddenly turn into a group decision? I would've found a way to make the Pizza Bread last for the rest of the day. But we were a team, after all. Together we'd survive more easily. This was no time for dissension. But I couldn't hold myself back. "Y'all are Nazis," I snapped bitterly, and turned back to put away the focaccia. I was too tired and too hungry to wonder if I was being politically correct.
We bought the cereal and sat in the food court, eating it. The minutes crawled by... the hours loitered there with us, refusing to bring us any closer to the end of this journey. Finally we sneaked into the centre of the food court where some tables were sectioned off by low walls, to steal some sleep. Steve laid down under some chairs in the corner, and Tanaya put her head down on one of the tables. I laid myself across three chairs in the middle and closed my eyes, remembering the time when I did that in the dining room at home when I was younger. With the tablecloth spilling over the edges of the table, I was invisible. My parents ran all around the house looking for me. What I wouldn't give to hear their panicked voices, and jump out to surprise them. To be home again.
"Wakey-wakey! Time to get up!"
We woke to the shuffling of bodies, scraping of chairs on the ground, and two large security guards moving through the mess of tables. Frantically we got up, wide-eyed and still groggy at the same time. What do we do? Run?
The security guards told us there's no sleeping in here. Didn't we have some place to go? Steve said no. They said, What happened? Did you guys get kicked out?
We all looked at each other. We'd never worked out our stories all together. So we said ... Yes.
The security guards were bewildered. All of you?
Well... said Deb. We all have different stories.
You've gotta be kidding me, the guards laughed.
So, they busted us. So we weren't really homeless. They were pretty cool with us being there. People are always there till all hours, and it was fine, especially since we were buying from Dominion's and just hanging out. But, there's no sleeping here. They wouldn't have to kick us out since we're not being rowdy or on drugs, but we just have to find a way to keep our heads up.
Thanks, we said. And they left (probably still laughing). It makes very little sense, I think, that there's all this open unused space, and we're not being rowdy or on drugs, and we can hang out here, but we just can't sleep. But, rules are rules. So we kept each other awake for a little bit longer, and then went on a quest for a Tim Hortons; Tanaya said there's one at Bay and Charles.
When we arrived, we counted out some loose change. We bought an extra-large hot chocolate, and got extra cups to share it. I thought back to not too long ago, when I was sat in DC during exams with an XL half-and-half. I usually don't take any more than a large, but John Jeung had bought it for me. I had downed it greedily, only to find that the caffeine made me too jittery to study for the rest of the day. But that was a long time ago. Now, we sipped our hot chocolate modestly, savouring it, hoping for some sort of Elijah miracle where the cup would never be empty. Mika had fallen asleep at the table again somehow, but the rest of us were just anxious for the sun to come up so we could go back outside to lie down. We chatted and tried to keep each other's spirits up, but tensions were high and nerves were taut. We made pleasantries and safe jokes, like fairies tiptoeing around landmines.
Around five thirty, the sky began to brighten. It was no longer the putrid black of cold earth and frozen spirits; it was still grey, but the little bit of light beginning to creep upon the city was enough to give us a glimmer of hope that might sustain us over the next day.
We left the Tim Hortons, aware that it was nearly time to switch groups and go on our ways again. Sleep was on the forefont of all of our minds. Nothing else mattered. We just wanted to rest.
Clustered together on the sidewalk, huddled together for warmth, we prayed. Steve said the words that we all knew in our hearts, but dared not breathe, for fear that acknowledgement would mean defeat: "God, this sucks." Amen, I thought. I didn't even hear anything else he said. Maybe something like asking for strength, and safety, or whatever. But all I could think was, God, this sucks. Why am I here? Why am I doing this? How do people do this?
As we lifted our heads, my shoulders felt a little bit lighter. Or maybe I was just getting lightheaded and delirious. Steve, Tanaya, and I waved goodbye to our nighttime companions, and walked off in search of a sanctuary.
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because some time later, I came to again, shivering. The day had been windy, with little sun, and by now the earth had cooled and any residual warmth had gone. Wind was creeping into the holes of the cardboard, up into my hoodie, right down to my core. I could not stop shaking. I looked around and saw Tanaya similarly trying to huddle into an ever smaller ball. We both could not sleep, it was too cold.
We woke everyone else up. Mika was fast asleep, but he'd served in the army in Finland, so go figure. Having no other choice, we walked back to College Park. We decided to go to the 24-hour Dominion's to buy something to eat. Mika and Hanna wanted to get a loaf of bread; they had been mentioning that idea all day. I guess they really miss the bread they eat in Finland, I think it's rye. My attention was stolen by a vegetarian focaccia, which I will adoringly remember as the Pizza Bread. It was greasy and beautiful, ornate with its different coloured peppers, and smelled fantastic - it was a memoir of the life I'd left. With the five dollars I'd gotten earlier, it was affordable, at four dollars, but it would not leave much for tomorrow. I clung to the Pizza Bread as we all walked over to the cereal aisle, after Tanaya suggested we buy a box of cereal.
It was another long headache, trying to choose between the classic Life cereal or the cinnamon one. We ended up getting the classic one because it was 650 g instead of 590. Everything was about cost efficiency now.
"I vote against getting the Pizza Bread," Steve suddenly opined.
I recoiled, as if he'd personally attacked me.
"Yeah, it looks sort of greasy," Tanaya put in.
What, like suddenly homeless people don't eat greasy food? What was there left to live for?
"Plus, I don't like any of the toppings on it."
This whole communist idea was not working for me. It was my five dollars, that Tracy and Lucia gave to me. How did this suddenly turn into a group decision? I would've found a way to make the Pizza Bread last for the rest of the day. But we were a team, after all. Together we'd survive more easily. This was no time for dissension. But I couldn't hold myself back. "Y'all are Nazis," I snapped bitterly, and turned back to put away the focaccia. I was too tired and too hungry to wonder if I was being politically correct.
We bought the cereal and sat in the food court, eating it. The minutes crawled by... the hours loitered there with us, refusing to bring us any closer to the end of this journey. Finally we sneaked into the centre of the food court where some tables were sectioned off by low walls, to steal some sleep. Steve laid down under some chairs in the corner, and Tanaya put her head down on one of the tables. I laid myself across three chairs in the middle and closed my eyes, remembering the time when I did that in the dining room at home when I was younger. With the tablecloth spilling over the edges of the table, I was invisible. My parents ran all around the house looking for me. What I wouldn't give to hear their panicked voices, and jump out to surprise them. To be home again.
"Wakey-wakey! Time to get up!"
We woke to the shuffling of bodies, scraping of chairs on the ground, and two large security guards moving through the mess of tables. Frantically we got up, wide-eyed and still groggy at the same time. What do we do? Run?
The security guards told us there's no sleeping in here. Didn't we have some place to go? Steve said no. They said, What happened? Did you guys get kicked out?
We all looked at each other. We'd never worked out our stories all together. So we said ... Yes.
The security guards were bewildered. All of you?
Well... said Deb. We all have different stories.
You've gotta be kidding me, the guards laughed.
So, they busted us. So we weren't really homeless. They were pretty cool with us being there. People are always there till all hours, and it was fine, especially since we were buying from Dominion's and just hanging out. But, there's no sleeping here. They wouldn't have to kick us out since we're not being rowdy or on drugs, but we just have to find a way to keep our heads up.
Thanks, we said. And they left (probably still laughing). It makes very little sense, I think, that there's all this open unused space, and we're not being rowdy or on drugs, and we can hang out here, but we just can't sleep. But, rules are rules. So we kept each other awake for a little bit longer, and then went on a quest for a Tim Hortons; Tanaya said there's one at Bay and Charles.
When we arrived, we counted out some loose change. We bought an extra-large hot chocolate, and got extra cups to share it. I thought back to not too long ago, when I was sat in DC during exams with an XL half-and-half. I usually don't take any more than a large, but John Jeung had bought it for me. I had downed it greedily, only to find that the caffeine made me too jittery to study for the rest of the day. But that was a long time ago. Now, we sipped our hot chocolate modestly, savouring it, hoping for some sort of Elijah miracle where the cup would never be empty. Mika had fallen asleep at the table again somehow, but the rest of us were just anxious for the sun to come up so we could go back outside to lie down. We chatted and tried to keep each other's spirits up, but tensions were high and nerves were taut. We made pleasantries and safe jokes, like fairies tiptoeing around landmines.
Around five thirty, the sky began to brighten. It was no longer the putrid black of cold earth and frozen spirits; it was still grey, but the little bit of light beginning to creep upon the city was enough to give us a glimmer of hope that might sustain us over the next day.
We left the Tim Hortons, aware that it was nearly time to switch groups and go on our ways again. Sleep was on the forefont of all of our minds. Nothing else mattered. We just wanted to rest.
Clustered together on the sidewalk, huddled together for warmth, we prayed. Steve said the words that we all knew in our hearts, but dared not breathe, for fear that acknowledgement would mean defeat: "God, this sucks." Amen, I thought. I didn't even hear anything else he said. Maybe something like asking for strength, and safety, or whatever. But all I could think was, God, this sucks. Why am I here? Why am I doing this? How do people do this?
As we lifted our heads, my shoulders felt a little bit lighter. Or maybe I was just getting lightheaded and delirious. Steve, Tanaya, and I waved goodbye to our nighttime companions, and walked off in search of a sanctuary.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Friday June 8. 6pm - 12am.
As the rain subsided, Mika, Hanna and I left Evergreen. The sky was still grey with storm clouds, and the air was warm and thick. Hopefully it would not rain again tonight.
First things first. We needed some money, if we wanted to eat at all tonight. We walked down College, and near Grange Park we found a small street with a slow, but steady flow of people. Hanna and Mika sat down on one side of the street together, and I, on the other. We put our hats humbly on the ground in front of us and prayed for people to feel sorry for us. All sorts of people in all sorts of shoes walked past. Some stared, some avoided eye contact altogether. Some offered me cab fare a bus token.
It was degrading to have no other means of meeting your needs than to rely on others' compassion, or pity; it didn't even matter what their motive was - you're in no position to deny anything on principle. I kept my eyes on the ground most of the time because I could not bring myself to look people in the face.
It was warming and a little disturbing to have some people stop and offer to help a stranger. I say disturbing because I'm sure it doesn't happen to everyone. Maybe people wanted to help me because I'm young, because I'm a girl, because I'm sane, or non-threatening. But I wonder, what would the world be like if everyone who needed help was offered it?
After panning for a little bit, we'd made around $9. (It sounds weird to say "made", as if we'd earned that money somehow.) We took off on a quest for food. We went on a venture through Chinatown, hoping to find some cheap food there, but that failed because I can't read Chinese. (Mika and Hanna are Finnish... They don't read Chinese either.)
Anyway, to make a long, frustrating search short, we ended up in a McDonald's somewhere on Yonge, with a double cheeseburger and water each. The leftover pieces of sandwich buns at the next table almost looked inviting, but I wasn't that desperate... yet?
After our small and sad supper, we walked back up to College. We were going to meet Deb, Steve, and Tanaya at midnight at College Park. I don't know what time it was, we didn't have a watch. It was probably not much later than ten though. I knew this because we had been at BCE place at 9:15 before going to the McDonalds where we ate.
We set down flattened cardboard boxes at the corner of Yonge and Gerrard. We had had the foresight to take them from outside a Tim Horton's that we passed. I put out the cup saved from McDonald's, and poured in some coins to inspire others to do likewise.
I was immensely tired by that time. We'd walked for hours, and had little to eat. I rested my head on the window behind me, barely having the energy to keep my eyes open to make sure no one tried to run away with what little money I had.
Then I met Tracy and Lucia. I think they're the ones that gave Hanna and myself a fiver each. They walked around the intersection and asked to join me. Tracy offered me a cigarette. Lucia was 19, Tracy was probably the same age. They live in Scarborough. They're a couple, and they met at martial arts. (Tracy is a guy, just to be clear.) Tracy wants to go to college to be an airplane mechanic. Lucia isn't sure what she wants to do. Her ideal job is to be an artist, but they don't make very much money. Their favourite thing about the city is all the random people one can meet.
Tracy and Lucia must have sat and talked with me for almost an hour. We chatted about all sorts of things. Tracy suggested his [certainly not unique] theory that Bill Gates unleashes new viruses on the Internet all the time so he can keep pumping out new versions of Norton Antivirus. We played a game where I named off drugs and he'd tell me if he'd done them before. They checked to make sure if I was "being safe".
I asked Tracy how much he smokes. The most ever, he said, was a pack a day, but he cuts back for sports. I told him smoking will kill him, and he should quit. After all, I said, he wants to go to college and has all sorts of big things ahead of him.
"We all have big things ahead of us," he assured me.
Even you, I silently heard in my head.
Would I have believed that even a homeless person has "big things" ahead of them? We were only trained about harm reduction. I was flabbergasted. You can't teach or train people to have that sort of optimism.
Tracy, Lucia and I even talked a bit about religion and faith. Tracy was raised a Catholic - he wore a bracelet on his wrist with a small mysterious black pouch.
"How do you know what's inside it?" I asked.
"You don't," he replied. "And that's kind of what faith is. Believing in something that you can't see." My immediate reaction was to try to analyze the theology behind that statement, but I stopped myself. I appreciated his warmth and honesty.
Around 11:15, they had to leave. (Tracy's mom was calling him on his pink cell phone.) Lucia wrote down her phone number and gave it to me, telling me to call her if I needed anything. We wished each other all well, and then they disappeared into the night.
At that very moment, I was the happiest I had been all day. For the first time since being homeless, I'd had friends. I wasn't just a charity case. I wasn't assumed to be some sort of runaway or failure. I was... normal.
First things first. We needed some money, if we wanted to eat at all tonight. We walked down College, and near Grange Park we found a small street with a slow, but steady flow of people. Hanna and Mika sat down on one side of the street together, and I, on the other. We put our hats humbly on the ground in front of us and prayed for people to feel sorry for us. All sorts of people in all sorts of shoes walked past. Some stared, some avoided eye contact altogether. Some offered me cab fare a bus token.
It was degrading to have no other means of meeting your needs than to rely on others' compassion, or pity; it didn't even matter what their motive was - you're in no position to deny anything on principle. I kept my eyes on the ground most of the time because I could not bring myself to look people in the face.
It was warming and a little disturbing to have some people stop and offer to help a stranger. I say disturbing because I'm sure it doesn't happen to everyone. Maybe people wanted to help me because I'm young, because I'm a girl, because I'm sane, or non-threatening. But I wonder, what would the world be like if everyone who needed help was offered it?
After panning for a little bit, we'd made around $9. (It sounds weird to say "made", as if we'd earned that money somehow.) We took off on a quest for food. We went on a venture through Chinatown, hoping to find some cheap food there, but that failed because I can't read Chinese. (Mika and Hanna are Finnish... They don't read Chinese either.)
Anyway, to make a long, frustrating search short, we ended up in a McDonald's somewhere on Yonge, with a double cheeseburger and water each. The leftover pieces of sandwich buns at the next table almost looked inviting, but I wasn't that desperate... yet?
After our small and sad supper, we walked back up to College. We were going to meet Deb, Steve, and Tanaya at midnight at College Park. I don't know what time it was, we didn't have a watch. It was probably not much later than ten though. I knew this because we had been at BCE place at 9:15 before going to the McDonalds where we ate.
We set down flattened cardboard boxes at the corner of Yonge and Gerrard. We had had the foresight to take them from outside a Tim Horton's that we passed. I put out the cup saved from McDonald's, and poured in some coins to inspire others to do likewise.
I was immensely tired by that time. We'd walked for hours, and had little to eat. I rested my head on the window behind me, barely having the energy to keep my eyes open to make sure no one tried to run away with what little money I had.
Then I met Tracy and Lucia. I think they're the ones that gave Hanna and myself a fiver each. They walked around the intersection and asked to join me. Tracy offered me a cigarette. Lucia was 19, Tracy was probably the same age. They live in Scarborough. They're a couple, and they met at martial arts. (Tracy is a guy, just to be clear.) Tracy wants to go to college to be an airplane mechanic. Lucia isn't sure what she wants to do. Her ideal job is to be an artist, but they don't make very much money. Their favourite thing about the city is all the random people one can meet.
Tracy and Lucia must have sat and talked with me for almost an hour. We chatted about all sorts of things. Tracy suggested his [certainly not unique] theory that Bill Gates unleashes new viruses on the Internet all the time so he can keep pumping out new versions of Norton Antivirus. We played a game where I named off drugs and he'd tell me if he'd done them before. They checked to make sure if I was "being safe".
I asked Tracy how much he smokes. The most ever, he said, was a pack a day, but he cuts back for sports. I told him smoking will kill him, and he should quit. After all, I said, he wants to go to college and has all sorts of big things ahead of him.
"We all have big things ahead of us," he assured me.
Even you, I silently heard in my head.
Would I have believed that even a homeless person has "big things" ahead of them? We were only trained about harm reduction. I was flabbergasted. You can't teach or train people to have that sort of optimism.
Tracy, Lucia and I even talked a bit about religion and faith. Tracy was raised a Catholic - he wore a bracelet on his wrist with a small mysterious black pouch.
"How do you know what's inside it?" I asked.
"You don't," he replied. "And that's kind of what faith is. Believing in something that you can't see." My immediate reaction was to try to analyze the theology behind that statement, but I stopped myself. I appreciated his warmth and honesty.
Around 11:15, they had to leave. (Tracy's mom was calling him on his pink cell phone.) Lucia wrote down her phone number and gave it to me, telling me to call her if I needed anything. We wished each other all well, and then they disappeared into the night.
At that very moment, I was the happiest I had been all day. For the first time since being homeless, I'd had friends. I wasn't just a charity case. I wasn't assumed to be some sort of runaway or failure. I was... normal.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
from dialogue on sex & life party
Q: What do you call people who use the rhythm method [of contraception]?
A: Parents!
overheard by steve at a church meal program
Guy #1 introduces Guy #2 to someone who works there
Guy #1: (after, aside) He's gonna want to tell you the Good News.
Guy #2: Why, what happened?
Q: What do you call people who use the rhythm method [of contraception]?
A: Parents!
overheard by steve at a church meal program
Guy #1 introduces Guy #2 to someone who works there
Guy #1: (after, aside) He's gonna want to tell you the Good News.
Guy #2: Why, what happened?
Monday, June 04, 2007
It's the start of my third week at Evergreen, and the last week of training. This Friday, our streetwalk commences. We'll be thrown into the bowels of urban life, forced to use our wits and resources with an unsurpassed urgency. Forced to learn to survive on the streets of Toronto.
This morning we did workshops on anger and on prostitution. I've had such an exhilarating experience thus far: feeling wonder at the new perspectives I've gained, as if being born into some unfamiliar world where all the rules we know don't exist, or are skewed; shuddering with disgust, sparkling with anger at the abuse and neglect that goes on in the world, and at the lack of help and options available to those who need it most; clutched by breathless heartache for those who have been hurt so often and so deeply and have done nothing to deserve it.
I think I still struggle with having compassion for others though... It's hard to stop myself from analyzing people's situations, and trying to determine if they did, in some way, deserve the situation they're in. But having more awareness and insight into the complexity of the issues that I used to think were so clear-cut, is definitely a good start.
A book that I've just finished and would recommend to... anyone, is Theirs Is The Kingdom: Celebrating the Gospel in Urban America, by Robert Lupton. It's about a guy - a minister, a missionary - who moves his family into a ghetto area to bring Christ's message. The book is simply a collection of short stories and thoughts that challenge a lot of today's societal values and attitudes. We value things like wealth, efficiency, intelligence, self-suffiency, while deliberately overlooking the fact that Jesus' ministry generally seemed to favour the poor. He says in Matthew 19:24, "it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God."
Anyway, this book deals with so many issues and makes so many good points, that to go too much into it would ensure that I'll leave something out. So, go read it!
My grandma's going to HK tomorrow night to be with my aunt, who is having surgery on her eye(s). I also faxed in my admission acceptance from University of Waterloo, so I...officially...will be heading back in the fall. I just need to find a place to live.
This morning we did workshops on anger and on prostitution. I've had such an exhilarating experience thus far: feeling wonder at the new perspectives I've gained, as if being born into some unfamiliar world where all the rules we know don't exist, or are skewed; shuddering with disgust, sparkling with anger at the abuse and neglect that goes on in the world, and at the lack of help and options available to those who need it most; clutched by breathless heartache for those who have been hurt so often and so deeply and have done nothing to deserve it.
I think I still struggle with having compassion for others though... It's hard to stop myself from analyzing people's situations, and trying to determine if they did, in some way, deserve the situation they're in. But having more awareness and insight into the complexity of the issues that I used to think were so clear-cut, is definitely a good start.
A book that I've just finished and would recommend to... anyone, is Theirs Is The Kingdom: Celebrating the Gospel in Urban America, by Robert Lupton. It's about a guy - a minister, a missionary - who moves his family into a ghetto area to bring Christ's message. The book is simply a collection of short stories and thoughts that challenge a lot of today's societal values and attitudes. We value things like wealth, efficiency, intelligence, self-suffiency, while deliberately overlooking the fact that Jesus' ministry generally seemed to favour the poor. He says in Matthew 19:24, "it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God."
Anyway, this book deals with so many issues and makes so many good points, that to go too much into it would ensure that I'll leave something out. So, go read it!
My grandma's going to HK tomorrow night to be with my aunt, who is having surgery on her eye(s). I also faxed in my admission acceptance from University of Waterloo, so I...officially...will be heading back in the fall. I just need to find a place to live.
Friday, June 01, 2007
i am.. so weary.
i had a new experience today. wanting to go home, but just not having the energy to get there. and being torn in another direction, by obligation, by responsibility. a fatigue i'd never known before.
exhaustion by overstimulation. new faces, new policies and protocols. new places. new skills, new responsibilities.
where's the old to ground me before i fly away?
i had a new experience today. wanting to go home, but just not having the energy to get there. and being torn in another direction, by obligation, by responsibility. a fatigue i'd never known before.
exhaustion by overstimulation. new faces, new policies and protocols. new places. new skills, new responsibilities.
where's the old to ground me before i fly away?
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