Masochistic Perceptions, Trials and Truths

These are my cyberfied cerebral synapses ricocheting off reality as I perceive it: thoughts, opinions, passions, rants, art and poetry...

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Swastikas and the Canadian Way


The ignorance of some people truly sickens me. As I was reading an article titled "French-English divide deepens in Quebec" in today's paper, there is a photograph of Separatist hardliners demonstrating outside a lawyers office who is representing Bill 104 families that allows students greater access to English schools. While I respect the rights and can appreciate the different point of view being held by the Quebec separatists, it saddens me that they wish to take away the rights of families to select what language they wish their children to be educated in. An independent Quebec is a plausible argument (but such arguments could probably hold water in every Canadian province if we base it on culture), but the taking away of rights is unforgivable. This is nothing new in Quebec as Bill 101 that passed years ago, prohibits English on signs in Quebec, even if the proprietor and majority clientele is Anglophone.

But this is nothing new in the endless saga between the seperatists and Canada. However, there was an dark irony in the photograph that accompanied this article - that of a protester holding a Canadian flag with a swastika emblazened on the maple leaf. Doesn't this protester realise that what he is demonstrating for is very much in line with Nazi doctrine,in contrast to a Canada that is attempting to protect all, regardless of language, religion, race or gender? Secondly, does that protester believe that the true Quebecois is French speaking, Catholic with brown hair and brown eyes?

I am sick of how Nazi references are drawn out each time someone opposes the views on another (i.e. President Obama with a Hitler mustache as portrayed by those against his health care reforms - yeah, Hitler really wanted free and accessible healthcare for everyone in the Reich!). I am even more sick of all the tax dollars and appeasement policies being sent the way of Quebec. Yes, they are a massive portion of this nation, but guess what - they aren't the only distinct group in this vast and diverse nation of ours. Up until the 1960's, Gaelic was the common tongue of those living in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, there's a strong Icelandic influence in Manitoba, the Ukrainians of Alberta and so on. I am not advocating that all these cultures receive more funding, but on the contrary! Culture is the way you live. Full stop. Whether trying to protect the Francophone language on an English continent or teaching urban Natives about their traditional ways, it all sounds great, but ultimately, culture will evolve and change in spite our efforts to preserve the past.

Canada is a nation that needs to stop trying to satisfy all of the smaller groups within it, and focus on enshrining the rights of all based on a common set of values. Isolating Quebecers or First Nations Peoples as being distinct and having special treatment is detrimental to them as it fosters resentment on both sides and a false sense of identity. The one thing that all Canadians have in common is that we are here. Lamentations and attempts to re-write the past only make the present more confusing and make the future non-progressive. We should all be proud of our past - I embrace my Irish roots completely, without a cent of funding from the government - but, like it or not, it is a new world, were all here and we have a nation with incredible potential. Now do we invest billions in the perpetuation of idealistic traditional cultures, or do we live in a way that makes us happy and keeps the true North strong and free?

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Sparks in the Darkness and a Bit of Silliness


More often than not on my blog I am bemoaning about the demise of community and culture in Western society. To be more precise, it is the suburban culture and box store climate that predominates most Canadian cities that raises my dander. Though I am nowhere near recanting such statements as I do feel that our social fabric is fraying and the thread count is well below 100, I concede that there are pockets of substantiality that can be sought out if you are fortunate enough to stumble across them, or become tenacious enough to break free of the apathetic fog of our cubicle culture, and seek them out.

So, what is the catalyst to my breech of being culturally optimistic? Well, it all started this afternoon when I was standing for a duration that seemed to exceed the final 30 seconds of a Basketball game, at a bookstore. I was getting my knickers in a knot at how slow the immense line was slothing forward when, suddenly I realised that all these people were buying books! And just like that I thought, damn-it this is bloody brilliant! Admittedly, I did look snobbishly at some of what people were purchasing (I openly admit to being a snob in such matters), but still felt proud of them for electing to spend time with pages and typeface over the boob tube or ploddling away time writing blogs that few people seldom read! ...ehm...er...Fantastic stuff!

This was the crest on the metaphorical wave that my life has been riding for the past while. The previous day had seen the majority of my colleagues getting together at a local pub for a send off for one of our own moving on to a new position. That night I enjoyed a few jars in a session with my band, PLAID FLAG. We are also jamming tomorrow, so again, that will make for a grand bit o' craic! And, to top things off, we were visiting the Congolese family that we've grown close to this afternoon and have been invited to a massive Congolese engagement shin dig next weekend that will be full of singing, dancing, traditional foods, etc. This is 500 thread count sheets that were talking about now (I learned that thread count in sheets is crucial from a colleague recently and thus dedicate this metaphor to her - now when I go sheet shopping I scrutinize the labels... though the sheets I've purchased since learning this are flannel and thus the thread count variable does not apply... but I digress)!

And if that doesn't cause an ember of hope for a more culturally qualitative life, I'm going to see Flogging Molly Monday night - marvellous stuff!

In closing, here's a big thank you to all of you out there keeping the faith, seeking those organic kernels that make life stimulating, whether you are making Art and music are supporting it! Make face time for one another, huddle faithfully in cafes, theatres, kitchens and clubs with the same dedication of those office workers you see huddled outside in -40c, having a smoke, and talk about real shit! Small talk makes us boring. Build flesh-based community (nothing kinky, I'm merely referring to being in the physical presence of others) - the safety that comes with such things- then embrace it! Share ideas, talk about books, share music, bitch about your spouses, fall in love, groom a mistress, play Chess - whatever. Do like the Boss says and get a bit of that "human touch", and, if you find yourself in a long line-up in a bookstore or music shop, be glad that you are a part of the congestion! Seriously - you deserve a gold star - well done!

Of course if you find yourself clotted in the queues elsewhere like at Wal-Mart or whatever, bitch and vent your rage at the lethargic service in what is supposed to be a high speed culture! Just be kind to the clerks - he/she may be composing a profound thought or simply be delayed by the cheap-arse technology of many big chain stores!

Now off with ye! Perhaps I've given you something to chat with a friend about (in either a positive or derogatory manner)!

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Rediscovering Our Tribes


Sunday evenings always leave me with a sense of trepidation. The prospect of beginning another week of teaching my incredible special needs students is my motivation to wake in the morning, but it is also the same that leaves me weary and spent, hence the trepidation! I suppose this is what is meant by a labour of love!

One of the most exciting things this school year has been being trained in the Tribes programme ( http://www.tribes.com/ ). This is a new approach to building school communities in being utilised many parts of Canada, and one that I embrace entirely. The central dynamic in having a positive learning environment is establishing relationships. The foundation of these relationships are based on trust and mutual respect. Such simple words, but something that may be a wee bit difficult to implement in a diverse room of adolescents.

Based on my interests in Eastern ideas, Yoga, love of Art and Music, etc., I have always been somewhat progressive in making my classroom a positive place, based on community and relationships. After completing Tribes, I realised that I was just doing naturally much of what this programme teaches, making assimilation easy. It is so exciting to see Educational trends evolve in this respect as it is a stark contrast to the way schools were run when I was a wee lad.

What troubles me (and a subject that I have written on in previous posts at length) is how such community building is lacking in our society in general. Teaching in the inner city, my students leave the safe walls of mutual respect and enter an neighbourhood rife with gangs, drugs and poverty. Going beyond the inner city, which perhaps possesses the strongest sense of community in most urban centres between the poor and the social group of smokers huddled in office doorways, we enter suburbs where communities have fallen away to small groups of Soccer Moms, etc. Like many things in school when I was young, you become so excited about a concept or idea, only to have it deflated by the 'real world'. It truly is a shame.

My daughter attends an Arts Core school, and I wish that we would see more of these programs made available. Artists tend to truly understand what community is, foster creativity and endeavor toward a world that is more stimulating than our present box-like structures and concrete towers. As a teacher, and as a parent deciding to send my daughter to such a program, I hope that we can make something positive for the future of our society.

In the end, relationships are the basis for life - it makes it all worthwhile. Communities make the craic even better when you are out and about, while supporting one when things are going to shite. I must admit that, while I love connecting with folks on-line, we really need to break free of our cubicles and commune with people (don't get me wrong, I'm delighted that you are here but would much prefer to speak with you face to face or over a pint or Americano). For example, I spent this afternoon jamming with my Celtic band, PLAID FLAG, and it was amazing - the company, the resonating of acoustic instruments, the energy in our voices and the general banter and sharing of humour. I just don't believe it to be possible to get that kind of quality interaction through a keyboard, and we sure as hell don't get it through the television screen. Yesterday, after going through a few music shops and bookstores, my 7 year old daughter, Enya, and I sat down at Starbucks and simply chattered at each other for an hour. This is what it's all about!

So, here's to those who take it upon themselves to build communities, make Art and endeavor to make this world better through fostering positive relationships!

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Possible Name for My New Celt-Punk Band


It was a brilliant Autumn afternoon as my seven year old daughter, Enya, and I were strolling down Whyte Avenue and doing a bit of people watching. In edition to our usual haunts (book store, music shop and cafe), we put our heads into the Scottish Import Shop to browse. It was great fun and a bit nostalgic for me as I spent most of my childhood and early 20's playing bass drum in a Pipe and Drum band back home in Nova Scotia.

Then one of those magical moments - an epiphany if you will... or catharsis of sorts - hit me regarding the quest my band members and myself have been on pertaining to a name. I came up with:


Now, this is a spoof but meaningful name for me. In my embattled youth of shit and abuse, I discovered two things that changed my life forever: Albert Camus' "L'Etranger" and Punk Rock. And no joking, the very first punk rock I ever heard was BLACK FLAG's "Everything Went Black" record. In fact, during my years as the front man for the Halifax punk band, ICK ON FISH, my vocal style was modeled largely on Henry Rollins of Black Flag, and Joey Shithead's of D.O.A. Seriously formative stuff here!

In considering PLAID FLAG, for me at least, it represents a bit of the rougher edge that I bring to the group in hommage to my Hardcore roots. The tartan in the logo comes from the official tartan of Nova Scotia from where many of the band members hail. My only hesitation with the name is that it may make many think that we are trying to be Scottish, as many folks are unaware of the role of Celtic culture in Nova Scotia. Just to add to your cocktail knowledge: (1.) 'Nova Scotia' is actually Latin for 'New Scotland' (if you speak French at all, you'll know that Scotland in French is Ecosse, and Nova Scotia is Nouvelle Ecosse) (2) until the 1960's, the main language spoken by most people in the Cape Breton area of the province was Gaelic, and the language is still used there today and (3) Nova Scotia boasts the only Gaelic College in North America.

...Not that I'm proud to be a Bluenoser or anything...

So, it's still just an idea as I am only one member of the group. I had my missus help me do the design (above), which I have included here, along with Black Flag's logo (below) for contrast purposes

Input from my readers is always welcome - feel free to leave me a comment or I'll feel like I'm just nattering to myself!

Slainte!

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Giving Thanks


It's the Thanksgiving long weekend here in Canada. Our Summer dissolved into Autumn a week ago, followed by Winter barging its way in, long before it's entrance on stage was expected. So, it was in the midst of frigid wind gusts, flurries and the cold that I stood in line yesterday at a mattress donation programme with the Mother of the Congolese family which has, more or less, been absorbed into my own.

We arrived at the location at noon - The Mother, her 7 year old son (who has latched on to me as a father figure in a family with four sisters and an 8 month old brother) and myself - waiting for the place to open at one o'clock. We were not the first three people there, and, by quarter to the hour, the place was bustling with people. Most of the crowd appeared to be from various African refugee communities, and there were a half dozen or so Aboriginal people there. I was the only white person.

The system worked as follows: you needed to have a requisition form from some agency such as the refugee board, etc., which stated what your needs were. My friend had a form for two queen sized mattresses. At one o'clock, a man gathered all the forms and took approximately 15 minutes to organise them according to the dates on each requisition, by which the order was established as to who got to go first and so on (oldest letters first). My friend's letter was dated in July. After this, the man would call out the names one by one, handing the used mattresses out according to the order.

The whole process too ages. Many of the people there seemed to know one another. There was some light laughter and so forth, but, for the most part, people just stood there, shuffling in the cold, many wrapped up in layer upon layer of traditional clothing. I must confess that I was a bit chilly too, having given my jacket to my friend's son to wear as he was freezing, but wanted to stay with me instead of waiting in the car. I was introduced to several people, shaking hands, extending warm smiles. Many of those I met spoke only Swahili or French, so I conversed in the latter, getting some much needed practice in.

Finally, our turn came. Unfortunately, however, they were down to one queen mattress which was not looking to be all that great. The quality of each depended entirely on the luck of the draw. I saw one Aboriginal man walk away with a gorgeous king sized mattress with pillow top earlier, and another African family take away an amazing queen box set and mattress. So, luck was not my friends on this day, but at least she left with something. Behind us there were still another dozen or so people waiting. Like my friend, they will have to come back and do the whole process over again in a few weeks.

So, as Thanksgiving is upon us here in the Great White North, I am thankful for so many things. I am thankful for all that I have, especially my friends and family, between which I often do not distinguish as both groups mean the world to me. I am thankful to be in a position where I am able to help others, and I am thankful for those others who also offer their help. The generosity towards the family of which I write has been extended through many dear friends and wonderful people. I am thankful for my worst experiences in life and the horrors that I have witnessed as they have kindled an immense hope withing my resolve rather than extinguishing it. With all adversity comes a lesson through which we are able to become stronger, and by way of all our actions, we are able to make change in this world.

In closing, I wish you all peace, health, happiness and hope, and I also wish you my gratitude for reading my thoughts and the things you do to make the world a better place.

Sunday, October 04, 2009

Challenges, Creativity and the Good Life


Life is in an insane groove right now, coupling a whole lot of great things with a few stiff challenges. Does it get any better?

It all began in September with my special needs students. The first month was what seemed an eternal battle to establish relationships (10 of my present 15 kids were new to me - I had started with 23!), and get used to all the things and challenges that makes each child unique. Now, early in October, the class has really gelled and I'm thinking this will be an incredible year. There are unbelievable challenges which need to be addressed to ensure that each student succeeds, but the relationships are there now, making this a far easier undertaking!

On top of this, my family has become very close to a refugee family here from the Congo. The story of this family is horrific, as are those of many others from this part of Africa. My main focus has been to advocate for the Father of the family who is still awaiting his visa from Nairobi (he is presently held up in Uganda where he has been now for the past four years, leaving the Mother over here alone with six children). I am so pleased in the progress being made for these incredibly wonderful and inspiring people. I've managed to meet with federal MP's and get a lot of smaller issues addressed for the family ranging from clothing to housing improvements. They have basically become part of our family now and I am incredibly grateful for being in a position to assist them. There is no stronger thing in this world than love and compassion. I am also overwhelmed by how many of my friends and colleagues have answered the call to help this incredible family out!

My creative life is also on an upward spiral these days. Through my blog, I have been introduced to a woman in the U.S. who is interested in small press publishing. She is planning on publishing my short story, "The Addiction" (see link on side bar if you'd like to read it as I have it as another blog), and some of my poetry (also available on my Woven Words site) in a zine. I love this independent stuff as it is the true backbone and essence of what Art is about - just like my Punk Rock days of making our own tapes, t-shirts and posters, and our "do-it-yourself" shows! Also, a good mate and Nova Scotian in exile who is a brilliant playwright and screen writer (though hardly gives himself enough credit) and I were talking about him taking my story and writing it as a one act play. Very cool!

And speaking of music, I am entering the forray on that scene for the first time in 20 years! Back in the 1980's I sang for the Halifax Punk band, Ick on Fish, played a bit of bodhran in local Irish pub sessions and spent years as a bass drummer in a Scottish Pipe & Drum band. Now, myself and another Nova Scotian in exile, have started a bit of a Celt-Punk band which we are hoping will shape into something larger and eventually lead to playing shows. I must admit that my confidence is a bit shaky in the whole undertaking as I've only played alone in my basement and am very self-conscious of my guitar ability, not to mention my singing aptitude, while my mate is a seasoned player and multi-instrumentalist. But, in the end, I'll give it my best and hope that I can deliver the pace and contribute to the band in a positive manner. I must say, it is a bit of a dream of mine to play in such a band, though I'm chuffed at simply jamming in my basement with a few folks over a few pints.

This being said, we are looking for a band name. I've been putting it out there on my FACEBOOK page, but nothing really catchy has developed. If you have a suggestion, please feel free to comment! We will be in a similar genre (but not quite as heavy in some regards) as the Pogues, Tossers, Dropkick Murphys, Flogging Molly, Mahones, Saw Doctors, etc.

So, this has been my lot as of late and why I've been neglecting my wee o' Blogging. Thanks for dropping by and best wishes!

Slainte!