Good News!

Dear Laura,

Fabulous news for a Monday...we’ve won global commitment to cancel Haiti’s debt. Here’s the latest from this weekend...

Your signature was one of 400,000 delivered to the G7 finance ministers meeting in Canada by ONE member Michèle Bertol, a Haitian Canadian living in the small arctic town of Iqaluit (the G7 can run but they can’t hide, ONE members are truly global!). More than 200,000 ONE members signed the petition and a further 200,000 signatures came from our friends at Avaaz, Oxfam, and the Jubilee Debt Campaign.

While in Iqaluit, Canadian Finance Minister James Flaherty announced that all G7 countries – Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, the UK, and the US – have agreed to cancel Haiti’s debts. Exactly what we were hoping for.

You can learn more and share your thoughts on this victory with other ONE members on the ONE Blog:
http://www.one.org/international/blog/category/haiti/?id=1447-4478256-HGFNknx&t=2

Michèle handing over the petition on Saturday

Though the process isn’t complete yet, I’m confident that we’re on track to see full cancellation of Haiti’s debt. It looks very much like Haitians will receive the clean slate they need to start to rebuild.

Thank you so much for making this happen. Moments like this remind me of why this work matters and just how powerful we can be when we act together. I look forward to seeing what we can achieve next.

Yours indebted, er, but not in debt...
Roxane Philson, ONE.org

Complexity

Lately I've been thinking a great deal about just how amazingly complex we are as humans. More complex than we give ourselves credit for, in fact.

This stint of introspection first began probably around a couple of weeks ago after a series of situations caused me to acknowledge a few things about myself that I was not previously aware of. This acknowledgment was accompanied by a stark realization that though we as people tend to glide through life skating on the surface of the ice, there is a whole ocean underneath us and it impacts what we do on the surface more than we even know.

Sometimes things happen to us that have the ability to change our cognitions and behaviours, and oftentimes we will not even recognize the change or what has caused it. Sometimes things affect us to our core.

And it's hard to be able to swim in that ocean when it's protected by a layer of ice. For some people, the ice, the exterior, seems like a much nicer place to be.

I am perplexed by the ability of humans to not forget. I purposely stray away from the word "remember" because I think it's quite different than what I mean. At the risk of sounding Freudian, most of what I'm talking about happens in the subconscious.

And not only do we have this uncanny ability to "not forget," but the things filling up our oceans tend to become a part of who we are. The things that happen to us throughout our lives, the people that happen to us, are pieces of the puzzle. Much of who I am now is a culmination of events, situations, and people I've encountered up to this point. Sometimes these things will manifest themselves and interconnect in such a way that they alter who we are. I have always known this to some extent, but I think the reach of it is much deeper than I originally thought.

For me, in the past week or so, I guess I've been peering into my ocean. I wouldn't say I've gone swimming in it just yet, but I've definitely gotten my feet wet.

Thoughts on Haiti

I know everybody is well aware by now of the massive 7.0 quake which devastated the already desperate nation of Haiti on January 12.

Since then, the Haitian people have not once been far from my mind. Being here, I feel a mixture of guilt and helplessness. It's a bitter concoction of knowing that I want to do more, but not knowing how. I feel guilty because I have a roof over my head and many of these people do not. I feel guilty because my fridge houses an abundance of food and fresh water and so many Haitians are hungry and thirsty right now as I type this. I feel guilty because as I go about my daily business and watch their tragedy unfold on my big-screen TV these people are experiencing hell on earth. I feel guilty for not doing more to give a voice to the people in the world who may not be receiving worldwide media attention, but whose situations are just as bleak. Darfur, Congo, Cambodia. And that's just to name a few.

I mention this only because I don't want us to forget that while Haiti certainly needs us to step up to the plate for them right now, other countries are in turmoil as well. Their stories are just heard less.

In any case, I am extremely proud to be not only Canadian, but North American today. I don't recall ever seeing this level of outpouring on a country that was not our own and it warms my heart to see people so willing to give something of themselves. That includes sending money to a broken nation - maybe doing without a family meal at McDonalds or a couple of runs to Starbucks. Seems like a small price to pay when it's put that way, doesn't it?

The issue is that even those who survived the quake are now faced with this second dilemma of not being able to meet their own basic human needs; the need for food and water. Not to mention the need for shelter and safety.

You all know I've had a tough couple years having lost so many of my closest loved ones. Well, think of those Haitians who have lost their entire families in one shot. It's hard to imagine because it seems so far away. The toll that the aftermath of this natural disaster is having on them, not just physically but emotionally, is incomprehensible. If any of you have lost somebody who means the world to you, you know what I'm talking about. Now think of losing everybody who means the world to you. Plus your house and all your means of survival.

If we are not inclined to help the Haitians, then God help us.

On Tuesday it will be two weeks since the earthquake. Haiti is still all over the news, but I've noticed it petering off somewhat in the past couple of days. That's showbiz. What happens when the novelty of the story completely wears off and other news stories begin to trickle in? Will we mentally remove ourselves from the situation? My hope is that this will not become an out-of-sight-out-of-mind problem as the shocking photos and headlines gradually diminish. To let this fade out of our consciousness would be to take a sad situation and make it more sad. It's going to require more than a little while to rebuild a country from the ground up.

I know not everybody agrees, but personally I feel that not only would it be nice if we did whatever we could to help, we also have a responsibility to help. In turn, if we don't help, we are being irresponsible. Rwanda comes to mind. And well, the holocaust, for that matter. If helping for you means fifty cents, then that's still help. Any help is better than no help, no matter how you spin it. 

There are so many places to donate, but beware of scams. For a list of reputable organizations, click here: DONATE!

Canadians, for an easy way to donate without having to give out credit card information, text "AID" to 45678. Shortly after you do, you will receive a text back. Reply to that text with "YES" to donate $5. That five bucks will be added to your phone bill at the end of the month.

Americans, same deal, except you text "HAITI" to 90999 and donate $10 per text.

Like I said, I am so proud to be North American today. The way everybody is pitching in makes me feel like maybe we really are who we say we are.

A Scholar's Parrot May Talk Greek

I attended a big province-wide youth convention (known to most as YC) a few years back. The main thing I remember about this particular YC is not the flashy lighting or the  popular musical guests, but rather a simple story that a guy named Mike Yankoski shared with us. He, along with his friend Sam, intentionally lived as homeless men for a period of time on the streets of six different American cities. He even wrote a book about it. Anyway, he told us that several weeks into their "experiment" they found themselves in Phoenix, Arizona. One night they were sleeping next to the sanctuary of a large, beautiful church. The next day was Saturday, and the pair were awakened by the unmistakable scent of breakfast. (Yes, breakfast is a scent. This was a few years ago - I can't remember exactly what was cooking).  Of course the scent alone encouraged the onset of intense hunger pangs. By this point the two had been living on the streets long enough to have acquired a fair amount of grease, grime, dirt, and even a few scents of their own. Before they knew it two men from the church approached them and told them sternly: "You need to leave." The men then proceeded to enter the church.

Mike and Sam were hungry. They wanted in on the food. They didn't leave.

Not many minutes later the same two men emerged from the sanctuary and were shocked to find that Mike and Sam had not complied. One of the men said: "what's the deal guys? I told you that you needed to leave and you haven't moved." Mike spoke up and said: "Yes sir, I realize that. We don't understand why, though." The same man piped up, clearly frustrated: "These are church grounds! Church grounds aren't for this. We have people coming soon and you need to leave!" The two men stormed away, and Mike and Sam left.

In fairness to the man who kicked up such a stink over two lowly homeless guys loitering on his beloved church's property, the next day when Mike and Sam returned to the same church for the morning service, he did apologize and acknowledge his mistake.

 I guess the main question I have when I hear stories like this is: what is the purpose of the church if it isn't to love and help others?

I'm guilty too. In fact, an incident from my pre-teen years sticks out pretty well in my mind. A man who was well-known in my community for being regularly strung out on drugs and a bit unpredictable showed up to church one day. I was always afraid of him. He came in, plopped down in a pew by himself wearing dirty, torn up clothes and no boots. He just sat there and before I knew it his socked feet were resting up on the pew in front of him. I have to be real, nothing else that was said or done in that church service mattered to me. I was focused on him, awestruck at his audacity, and watching intently to see who would deal with the situation and how they would deal with it. I don't think anybody kicked him out or anything which is slightly surprising giving that some of the people from my church were very staunchly traditional. I wish I could remember if anybody made an effort to connect with him or not but I really don't. Thinking of it now, though, I wonder what's more important: to rid the uncomfortable congregation of the pink elephant in the room, or to take steps to make this man who for some reason made his way to a place he'd never been feel loved and accepted? I don't have to wonder for long. I know the answer.

Okay. So the story that Mike Yankoski shared is not the only memorable moment I have had at a YC. I'm not sure if this happened in the same year or not, but there was a point in one of the years I attended when the focus really shifted from "us" to "them." It was not about "God bless me with this gift," or "let's just get as close to the band as possible and jump around and have fun." It was an instance where a stadium full of young teenagers to young adults began to sacrifice the money they had been keeping to go to McDonalds after the concert, or money that would inevitably have been spent at "San Francisco" on green hair dye or bells, whistles and other noisy things that would make them stand out amongst the crowd. The moment was pure, and it was right, and it was holy. It was a moment of connection. Not simply because it was emotional - but because hordes of people gave something of themselves in an act of love. In fact, enough was given to build a village for orphans in Malawi. It was named the "Village of Hope." When things like that happen, I really do have faith that there is also hope for the church.

That same year I believe there were a LOT of children matched up with sponsors through Compassion Canada as well. Whatever that year was, it was my favourite.

I suppose the people who believe that Jesus is an actual historical figure who walked on Earth have varying opinions of who He was and what He stood for. It is my own personal belief that He was the ultimate humanitarian. It probably wasn't His intention for churches to spend copious amounts of money on fancy sound systems, state of the art this and top-of-the-line that and then send out a couple of grocery hampers using whatever money is left.

As a culture, we're pretty selfish. It's that: "look out for yourself because nobody else is going to" attitude. Donald Miller talks about this selfish aspect that exists within us in his book, and refers to a poem by C.S. Lewis, which is actually more of a brave admission:

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.

I never had a selfless thought since I was born.

I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through;

I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,

I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin;

I talk of love-- a scholar's parrot may talk Greek--

But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

I think most humans, at least in part, are selfish. It's part of the human condition. But if we believe in what we say we believe in and don't take strides to combat this disease -- we have failed.

Faith without deeds is dead.

*************************************************

Blue Like Jazz

RE: My last post. Thanks to those of you who read and were understanding. What this means for my blog is not that I will in any way, shape, or form avoid expressing my thoughts/feelings, but simply that my personal letters will be kept personal. I'm sure there will still be times when I'll feel the need to write about how much the deaths of my loved ones have affected me but the frequency of this may be a little less than it was before.

On another note, for a long time I've really been wanting to write about my issues with "church" and perhaps even "the church," (a bit of a generalization, I know, because there are a wide variety of people who make up "the church")  but I could never figure out how to approach the topic. I don't want to offend anybody and I do realize that some of the people who read this blog - well, they may not necessarily like what I have to say.

I've just recently begun reading the book "Blue Like Jazz" for a second time and surprisingly it's as captivating the second time around as it was about three or four years ago when I first read it. The book resonates with me to the point where oftentimes I feel as if the words Miller has written were taken straight from my heart.

I took a hot bubble bath last night and read the first two chapters. That's when I decided that maybe this book would be a good way to approach what I've been wanting to write about for so long. So I'll give it a shot.

But first a bit of background.

 I grew up a small-town Christian. Went to church regularly and never questioned much. To question, in my mind, would have been weak. In fact, I don't remember ever questioning anything about God until grade twelve, when Uncle Jamie died. At least that's the first time I remember actively questioning God and even being sort of angry. I remember exclaiming at Him: "What is this mustard seed thing all about? Or 'ask and you shall receive?'" Up until the last moments of my uncle's short life I believed with every fiber of my being that his cancer would just disappear. My faith was bigger than a mustard seed, and there were definitely no mountains moved for my uncle. That's when I first began to realize that prayer probably does not work the way I was taught it worked.

Miller talks about how he used to think of God sort of as a slot machine, "a set of spinning images that dolled out rewards based on behavior and, perhaps, chance." I suppose that there were some similarities to that in my own thinking, and I had been on my best behaviour for my entire life - which basically, to me and everyone I knew, meant that I didn't smoke, drink, swear, sleep around, or do drugs.

Something else happened shortly after my uncle passed away that made me question even further. This event didn't make me question God, though, so much as "church" and many of the people in it. Of course I do realize that the majority of people who go to church are well-intentioned, genuine and authentic people who really do have good hearts. But there are many who have been taught to judge. Most of them do it under a different name. "Accountability" or something. Oftentimes, it isn't done out of love or in the context of friendship, either.

So I now realize that during my grade-school years I was truly naive and when it came to God and church and things of that nature, I did not have too many independent thoughts. How could I? My mind was like an endless well filled with all the information I'd been taught since I was old enough to understand language.

Any independent thoughts I did have came from discussions around the table at suppertime. I remember them well, because my parents who also went to the same church I did were much more open-minded and liberal than any of the other people I knew from the church. In fact, sometimes this would scare me because I would worry for their eternity if their beliefs veered even slightly in another direction - off the path of the way we were supposed to believe.

Looking back, I am incredibly grateful to my parents for those discussions about God we would have for hours. They taught me that it's actually okay to not be a lemming, to think for myself while keeping in mind that God is big enough to transcend any silly little variations that exist between denominations. It is because of them that today I am far less "religious", pious, and judgmental than I once was. For that I owe them thanks.

I have a lot of thoughts about a lot of things, and I am going to be discussing  many of them here in the next few weeks as I read through "Blue Like Jazz." There are definitely some topics that I want to avoid getting into, but then, I also thought I would avoid this topic altogether yet here I am.

I'm going to try to be as candid as possible but again, my intention is not to offend anybody or even to "inform." This is my personal journey and I'm sharing some of my own beliefs on my blog. If that is a hard pill for any of you to swallow then it's best to just move along, nothing to see here! :)

-Laura

2010

A new year.

What will 2010 bring? I have hopes for it; hopes for growth, peace, love, and happier times. I am resolving to not make any resolutions, but rather to try and take every opportunity I have to better myself as a person.

I have not been blogging as regularly as I would like in these past few months. There are several reasons for this, some of which include school becoming particularly crazy from November-December, during Christmas I wanted to soak up as much time with those I love as possible, and I have had some other things in the works that have been demanding my time and attention.

I miss writing. And by that I mean writing things that flow from my heart and soul as opposed to gigantic, meaningless research papers that suck the life out of me. It's been a long time since I've been able to sit down at my beloved MacBook and just let some of the thoughts and ideas floating around in my head reveal themselves. With the exception of my monthly letters to Daddy, of course.

Speaking of which, a few weeks ago I decided that my December letter to Daddy would be my last public letter. Even such a small decision as that was extremely difficult for me to make because I do not in any way want people to think I'm "over it" or finished grieving. The untimely death of Daddy continues to impact my life on a daily basis to the point where some days I do not even recognize myself. I don't know that I'll ever completely come to terms with it or that the shock will ever wear off. Of course there has been some sort of progress, but whether or not my progress appropriately follows the textbook example of the "grieving process" is highly debatable at best.

I do not regret writing these letters and making them public because I had a purpose behind doing so right from the beginning. My purpose was to let anybody and everybody who cared to read what I had to say know about this amazing man who happened to be my father. I wanted to honour him by making it public knowledge that although his time with us was relatively short, his was a life well-lived. THAT is why I wrote the article for the Globe & Mail. THAT is why I have continued to make monthly postings in letter-format to him. Of course, I also hope that he is somehow able to get the messages I've been sending...

I think I've accomplished that goal. Daddy's memory is also being kept alive by his friends who formed the "Ray Palmer Legacy Foundation" and all the others who do little things to pay tribute to him.

So why stop? There are several reasons.

1.) As I previously said, I feel my purpose in making these letters public has been accomplished. I still want everyone to know how special he was, but I am currently exploring other avenues for doing this.
2.) I don't have to censor this blog, but I feel the pressure to because I'm aware that there are several people who read this thing but don't comment. My letters to Daddy will continue, but they will be personal and uncensored, i.e., I can express my innermost thoughts and feelings without worrying about who will think what about what.
3.) Death has sort of become a theme for me in the past couple years, and it clearly shows on this blog. I am aware that people probably aren't interested in reading about death constantly. To be frank, my monthly letters were not intended to be for the reading pleasure of anyone. It was something I did in part for myself but mostly for Daddy. I'm sure the theme will arise again in future posts as it has so forcibly pushed its way to the forefront of my life, but as for the letters, I really feel it's time to make them personal and to make room for other topics of discussion on this blog. Especially considering that I never originally intended to share anything about my personal life here but rather discuss issues and topics of interest.

Not to mention that now I also have another grandmother that I'll probably be writing letters to as well...

So 2010 may look a little different around here. In any case, I plan to continue blog-a-ling, and hope that maybe I have some readers who are willing to come along with me for the ride.

Here's to hoping for an eventful (in a good way) 2010.

<3

For Daddy (and Nanny) - December 2009

Dear Daddy,

Tomorrow is New Years Eve, which means that a full year has come and gone and I have not seen you. Hard to believe that the last conversation we had was in 2008 and the last time I saw you was on the way back from my wedding in Cuba.

Christmas has come and gone, too, and this was another "floaty" one. Anybody who has not lost somebody so close to them may not fully comprehend what I mean when I say "floaty", and even some of those who have may not understand. But it is a word that for me encompasses a lot of what I've felt since you've gone.

This year Isaac was more excitable and Andrew (who is a little YOU) was around too. Those two gave us the gift of little moments of joy. It definitely has not been possible to ignore the two huge gaping holes in our circle left by the absence of you and nanny, but we know you're with us and I believe you're together. Any solace comes from reminding myself of that.

Last Christmas day we went to the "memory garden" to visit you and then headed right to the hospital to be with nanny. This Christmas we went to the memory garden and were able to avoid the hospital. Knowing that the both of you, two people who are such an integral part of my world, are not in any way suffering and are at peace is what gives me peace. Not to say that I've completely come to terms with all this because that is the furthest thing from the truth, but there are glimmers of hope.

We all miss you both so much. It's in the little things and the big things. There are so many things I want you to know and I am constantly yearning to have you both here with me. It is an indescribable sorrow to lose people you love so deeply and who have made it clear that they also love you. I feel in a way that you two are lucky to have escaped from this earth so that you may never know that kind of sorrow again yourselves. You will never have to lose me as I have lost you.

Neither of you will ever be forgotten. Your memory will live on in me and in others as long as we are still on the earth. And I cannot wait to see you again. Facing the inevitability of death has become a lot less scary for me.

I'm not sure how they do Christmas in Heaven but I hope you and all of the others we know and love who have gone before had the most amazing turkey dinner ever. Selfishly, I would give anything to have you both back. I would love to be that kid again who wakes up on Christmas morning not having to think about how her father and grandmother (who was actually more like a second mother, really) are not with her anymore. I miss the magic and the reality of life and death has hit me so hard, so soon. I am sure though, that if we can go through this year and not have anything drastic happen to us, next Christmas will be just a little bit more magical.

You are always on our minds and in our hearts.

Love you both barrels and barrels of nippers eyebrows,

Laura XOXO

Merry Christmas

Hello Internetland.

I hope you have the merriest, happiest, loveliest Christmas you have ever had to date.

Love & Peace,

Laura XO

Nanny

Rumour has it that I'm the world's worst blogger.
If you count the thoughts swirling around in my head as rumours, that is.

The truth is, I haven't felt up to writing.

In my last post I mentioned how I thought this Christmas should certainly be better than the last. And I think that still stands. But, since that last post I lost yet another one of the most important people in my life, and I do not say that lightly. On December 1, my other grandmother left this cruel earth and went to Heaven.

I have never known life without this woman. To call her a grandmother even seems like an understatement. She was so much more than that to me - more like another parent. She was the strongest, most beautiful and intelligent person with this incredible stamina and unwavering loyalty. I always knew that if anybody was going to be in my corner, it was her.

Her and I had this extremely close bond. I could attempt to explain the depth of that bond, but I would surely fall short. There is just far too much to say. Her significance in my life runs too deep. Mere words cannot even begin to describe how much I loved and respect her... how much I continue to do so.

Really, I lost her a year ago. Not long after Daddy passed away, "Nanny" (as I always called her) suffered a massive stroke. Since then she had been lying in a bed, the left side of her body paralyzed. She was trapped inside of her own body with no way to communicate. That was painful to watch. So many times I would look at her and just know she was uncomfortable, but not know how to help her because she couldn't communicate. She was always an extremely independent lady. She had to be. I knew that this new reality was not a way of life she wanted for herself. Not that anybody would want that reality for themselves - but, well, you'd just have to know her to understand.

She wasn't absent during this past year, though. She was still there. When I'd go to see her she would cry and smile and reach out for my hand. She lost a lot, but never the ability to recognize people and to show us how much she loved us.

Selfishly, I am devastated that she is no longer present with me here. In my mind I had her up on a pedestal that would give the Queen a run for her money. Without her my already incomplete life feels even more incomplete. She is the matriarch of our entire family - the glue that has brought and held us all together.

Unselfishly, I feel relieved. For her. I believe in afterlife - I have to. I have to believe that Daddy welcomed her into Heaven with open arms and that they are up there together eating "cooked dinner," laughing, smiling - being healthy and happy. A woman who has faced so much adversity in her life can now find peace at last.

And while the selfish part of me often takes over, when I remind myself that she's with Uncle Jamie (her son), Nanny Palmer, and Daddy - possibly even my cat Oreo and all the other pets I had in previous years (let everything that has breath....) the whole thing feels much more bearable.

That's why I say that this Christmas, despite the events that have taken place in recent weeks, should be better than the last. This Christmas I won't have to watch her suffer.

On December 4, 2009, I stood on Daddy's grave and watched them bury my other hero(ine) right next to him.

I know death is inevitable, but I truly hope for the sake of my family and myself that it will leave us alone for a good, long while.

Love you Nanny.
XO

Hi

I know it's been forever.
I've had a lot going on.

Real post coming soon to a blog near you.

For Daddy - November 2009

Dear Daddy,

It feels like it's been a long time since I've written, but that's because I wrote at the beginning of last month and - well, that was quite a long time ago!

School has really picked up in November, so I've been busy with that. There was a point after I got accepted when I was somewhat excited about becoming a student again. Yet, while most of the courses are interesting, I'm not really enjoying certain aspects of this program. Thankfully, I don't have a whole lot of time left with it! Pretty soon I'll be a counsellor and all the other stuff will be behind me. I hope you're proud! :)

I think of you in the weirdest situations, and oddly enough - a lot of times it's because of food. The other day Craig made a pot of pea soup and all I could think was: "Daddy would LOVE this. I wish he were here!" Tonight we made the BEST nachos EVER and my first thought was: "Oh Daddy would go crazy for these!"

I find myself constantly worried that people who don't know me very well or know what happened will ask me something about you. And then of course I'll have to tell them what happened and they won't know what to say... and then it'll be awkward because they'll feel really bad. And then I'll be left thinking about the enormity of what I've lost.

Just the other day, actually, one of my profs told me that he was having a difficult time because a friend he had lunch with just a few days earlier had passed away. He went to sleep and didn't wake up. He was fifty. He had a wife and children. I sympathized with my prof because as he said it I could sense his disbelief and I couldn't help but think: this is my story. And there is no way to adequately describe the shock something like this causes to your system. I remember how it feels - almost too well. It's physical, it's emotional, it's mental, and it's every fiber of your being locked in confusion and anguish. It's coming to an understanding of why they coined the term: "broken-hearted." Because that's literally what it feels like. So I sympathize with that family and with every other family who knows what that shock feels like. It's something I never want to experience again, that's for sure.

Christmas is coming up and again this year I find it hard to jump on the festive bandwagon (though other people seem to do so earlier and earlier every year). I never used to mind people talking about Christmas in October, but now I just think: "Seriously? We haven't even had Halloween yet." Now that it's almost December I'm a little more comfortable with it. When I see the commercials on TV, part of me yearns to feel that excitement - to be that girl who adore Christmas more than almost anybody again. But then part of me feels like that's impossible when such integral parts of me are missing (you, nanny). However, as Chris Martin says in one of my favourite Coldplay songs: "Everything's not Lost." I know that. I'm becoming more and more aware of that, and I know you would want us all to be happy. We're working on it, little by little. And this Christmas, at any rate, should be better than the last. But just know that we'll be missing you the entire time.

I wish you could see your little grandbabies. And by grandbabies I mean Isaac, Andrew, Winston and Winnie. :) You would love them all so much. I know for sure they would definitely love you. That is, until you'd pick on them so much that they would either a.) start to cry (for Isaac and Andrew) or, b.) bite you (for Winston and Winnie).

Daddy, if I've gotten anything from this whole situation, it's the ability to be able to put things in perspective. When I come across difficult people or am placed in a bad situation, I'm now much more able than before to realize how little it actually matters in the grand scheme of things.

Still, I'd switch this new ability with my old naiveté in a heartbeat if it meant having you around again. I miss you.

Love,
Laura XOXO

Awkward....

Does anyone else find this commercial extremely off-putting, awkward, and just plain... creepy?



It's on ALL the time, and I don't understand it one bit. I mean, really, did the father just escape from jail? Did he have an affair with his daughter's best friend? Is he making a return from rehab? Is the daughter beginning to forgive him for not paying child support all her life?

Come on, Swiss Chalet! You can't make a weird commercial like this and not give us the background info!

Celebrate Good Times, Come on!

Photo Courtesy

I forgot to write a little celebratory post......

I have exceeded 10, 000 hits! 10, 104 last I checked.

Thanks to those of you who take the time to read my silly blog. :)

<3

What's in a Name? (Part II)

Yes, I admit it. I have, on a few occasions, tried to Google myself. I've been on the internet for years and years, so I figure hey, there must be something out there in Google-world that has to do with me.

Unfortunately, both my first and last name are extremely common. And the combination of Laura with Palmer seems to be particularly popular.

When I Google myself, the pages that come up all revolve around one question: "Who killed Laura Palmer?" accompanied by this lovely picture of a very dead Laura Palmer:

Great. I know.

I think the show "Twin Peaks" was a little bit before my time. But often when people first meet me and I tell them my name they exclaim: "Oh, Laura Palmer! Ever seen the show  'Twin Peaks?'"

No I have not seen the show. Yes I am aware that the entire premise behind the show is to figure out who killed Laura Palmer.

Thanks, Twin Peaks, for making sure that I can never Google myself without adding greater specifications. For instance: Laura Palmer +Newfoundland, or Laura Palmer +What in the World?

My name was even the answer to a question on "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" at one point.

I just think that if my name was Sheniqua Palmer or Prudence Palmer I would be easier to find on the internet, that's all.

The other day I was watching MTV and a new song was being played called "Laura Palmer's Prom" by: "You Say Party! We Say Die!" Next day I got a message in my Facebook inbox with somebody telling me about that very song. How much do you want to bet that Prudence Palmer would not find her name being randomly used in a song?

My passport is set to expire in 2010. I haven't changed my name to the hyphenized version yet, so as of now I'm still officially Laura Palmer. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my last name. But, when my passport expires, I think I'll go ahead and get the name-change ball rolling so that my name can be my own instead of having to share it with a dead character from a dead show. :)

(FYI, I'm actually grateful that my parents decided against names like Shaniqua and Prudence. Smart move).

(FYI, I'm not really going to hyphenize my name just to make Googling myself easier.)

(FYI, sometimes sharing a name with a dead character in a once-popular TV series proves to be a great conversation-starter).

Friday the 13th

Today:

•  I discovered an earwig that was discovering my foot.
•  I was stuck at home all morning with no vehicle.
• I received an e-mail informing me that I had just made a Paypal transaction which involved me sending $150 USD to Zynga Game Network for 5 "chips." (I'm not a gamer).
•  I missed the Olympic torch relay that I was SO excited about because I had to spend the afternoon trying to decipher everything the lady from Paypal was saying (not the greatest English speaker the world has ever seen). Now, after my time abroad, I've grown somewhat accustomed to this, but nonverbals are kind of imperative.
• When backing out of the driveway to head to supper, our car both received and provided our Landlord's car with a nice, long scratch in the paint. (FYI - I was the innocent passenger in this situation).
•  I came  home after supper and fell asleep for 2 hours. Therefore, the joy that accompanies a Friday night just went out the window. (Full disclosure: this one is obviously my fault).

......Happy Friday the 13th!

People Celebration

Sorry if my last post seemed a little bleak. It wasn't intended to come across that way. It was more about me demonstrating a lesson that I have been learning on my personal journey through grief. In any case, it got me thinking about people I know who have passed away, and how in death we typically ignore any shortcomings they may have had and instead focus what made them special, unique, wonderful.

Frankly, it makes me sad that so many people who have already passed on never had the opportunity in life to hear the great things that people think/say about them in death. I do not have many regrets with regards to my father, because I know he knew how much I loved and respected him. Though, I do wish I had articulated it to him more fully, more regularly. But at his funeral all I could think about was how much I wished he could be there to hear all the great things people were saying about him and to see for himself how much he was admired and cared for.

Why do we wait until somebody dies to pay homage to that person?

It really is unfortunate. The fact that we are living, breathing organisms with the capacity to love automatically makes us special. And yet we so often let the opportunity to tell people how much they mean to us and what makes them particularly special fall to the wayside. Either that or we allow negativity to eat up all positivity and choose instead to focus on things we don't like. Come on, we're all guilty. I surely am. As an example, there is this guy on my Facebook friends list and every time he updates his status or makes any sort of comment I find myself seething - I just absolutely disagree to the core with nearly every point he tries to make. There have been times I've found myself so annoyed that I've almost deleted him, thinking that it would be better to just save myself the energy. After contemplating it further, though, I decided I would try to grow as a person and not just erase him. Alternatively, I am going to make an unprecedented effort to see the good. What makes him unique. Special. I know it exists. I've just been too distracted to see it.

Whatever the case, we need to tell people what we like about them and what makes them so special more often. In teacherspeak, if you want to see an increase in a desired behaviour, you provide positive reinforcement. More importantly than that, (because trying to change people doesn't often go over that well), if you believe in loving one another, expressing that and saying why you love a person is a good start. As a teacher probably my favourite technique to use in class (especially when things got dramatic - yes, in grade three) was "warm fuzzies." My students would write their names at the top of a piece of paper and their paper would get passed to each and every person in the class, who in turn would anonymously write one thing they really like about the student who owned the paper. Immediate results. Kids who had been having a tough day suddenly looked as though they'd won a million bucks. Kids with low self-esteem suddenly felt like superheroes. Let's face it, sometimes, people just want or need to hear that they're special.

So, all of that to say this: I think we need more of a people celebration in this crazy, individualistic world. Let's not wait until somebody dies to make them feel loved or to let them know what about them is lovely. Personally, I'd like for everybody to have a day. Birthdays are on the right track, but as I've gotten older I've noticed that they have become sort of anticlimactic. These days after the 500th "happy birthday" on Facebook it kind of feels like most people are just fulfilling a duty. Birthdays should be a celebration of the person who was born, but they aren't. At least, not to the extent I would like them to be! Wouldn't it be nice if everybody had one day out of the year, birthday or not, to just be celebrated and have hordes of people express to them all the reasons they add to the planet just by being alive? Everybody would have their own personal warm fuzzy day. That way, we would start to celebrate people in life as opposed to just death and really highlight the value that each person has within them.

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In some way, this is probably a fitting blog topic because today is Remembrance Day. I don't, by any means, agree with war, but I am forever grateful to those who fought and have given me the opportunity to live in a free nation. I'm also grateful to those who continue to do that for other nations. Today the celebration should start with them.

Lest we forget.

Life & Death

Almost every day there comes a point when I find myself shocked at everything that has happened in my life over the course of the past couple years.

Between late 2007-2009:

I graduated from university, moved to the other side of the world, travelled to fourteen different countries, had my apartment burglarized in Korea as I slept, taught little children who could not speak any English, met some of the greatest people I'd ever known until that point, ate things I never thought I would eat, did things I never thought I would do, got married, was blessed with two nephews, added two puppies to my family, taught music in a great school in Alberta, directed a Christmas musical and choir, took a travel writing course from Ryerson, got accepted into my master's programme, watched my grandfather deteriorate mentally, lost my grandmother, then, in many ways, lost my other grandmother (who I have not been able to have a conversation with since she had a stroke last Christmas), and of course - lost my father.

All of my accomplishments and moments of happiness seem to be obscured by loss. As you have probably surmised, I am not the same person I was in early 2007. My life before then was pretty predictable, pretty consistent. I was naive with a sprinkle of ignorance. Parts of the Laura I am today are envious of the Laura I was yesterday. After all, I had a charmed life. All the people who loved me most in this world were still with me. It hurts that I lost so much in such a short period of time. Yet, I refuse to let myself be defined by my loss. Anybody who has lost those they love so deeply know how easy it is to fall into a rut that seems to just call out your name. But, like a fighter in the ring I battle it everyday - as opposed to just standing there and letting it get the best of me.

A few nights ago one of the girls in my class did a presentation on the existentialist theory of counselling/therapy. Most of the presentations up to that point had kind of went in one ear and out the other, but this one really spoke to me and my current situation. One of the main guys behind this theory is Viktor Frankl. Some of you may have heard of him before, or even read his book: Man's Search for Meaning. Frankl was a holocaust survivor who spent time in some of the most notorious Nazi concentration camps, including the infamous "Auschwitz." His wife, parents, and most of his other family died in these camps. This guy had the most incredible attitude despite everything that he had been through. He gives me hope that human beings can come out of nearly anything with their heads held high if they choose to. He proposed a little mathematical equation for his situation: D=S-M. Before you begin to feel like you're reading a term paper, hear me out. Despair = Suffering - Meaning. In other words, you can avoid despair by finding meaning in your suffering. Even now, to me, that seems impossible. I see no meaning behind Alzheimer's. I see no meaning behind strokes that debilitate people to the extent that they are stuck inside their own body with no way to communicate. I see no meaning behind the death of a young, healthy man. But even though I cannot see the meaning, I cling to the hope that somehow it still exists.

The girl doing the presentation also played this clip of Steve Jobs. For all the PC-lovers out there, Steve Jobs is co-founder and CEO of Apple Inc. (FYI, anything he says after the 4:10 mark doesn't matter, so you can stop it there.)

:)

I love this, because Steve Jobs articulates so simply yet eloquently what it meant for him to be faced with death. His message differs greatly from Frankl's, but both are equally valid. Steve offers a kind of realistic-yet-dismal message. Though, I couldn't help but think after viewing the clip that maybe it shouldn't seem so dismal. We are all going to die. It's just a question of when. Confronting loss, in many ways, can be good for the human spirit. Standing in the face of death (as we all do each day) should help us to work harder, waste less time, be kinder, more peaceful, less judgmental, more compassionate, give freely, love more deeply. Because life truly is uncertain. We are not guaranteed another minute. Death is ubiquitous. Death, in all its ambiguity, is unavoidable. And in some paradoxical, oxymoronic way, death is a part of life.

Armed with the new knowledge that me and my family are not immune, my quest to find meaning has officially begun. I may not find it in this lifetime, but I have to believe I will someday because S-M=D. Suffering without meaning equals despair.

Notes from my Mama

One of the reasons I am reconsidering not getting the H1N1 vaccine:

October 27, 2009

Good morning,

Please don't text me at 3:00 a.m. It wakes me up and I sometimes have difficulty sleeping.

By the way, there is more mercury in a can of tuna than there is in the vaccine.

Love and kisses,

Mom

October 28, 2009

Hi sweetie,

How are you doing? I just wanted to wish you a terrific day!!! It is snowy here today..YUK!! Apparently it was very icy when people came into work today. I was at work at 7:00, so I got here before the ice started..a good thing since I don't have any winter tires on yet.

Have you had your H1N1 shot yet? Make sure you watch for vaccination times and you go and get your shot. :-)

Love and kisses,

Mama

October 30, 2009

Hi Laura,

I have also investigated the vaccine a little more. I feel everyone should be getting the vaccine because the risks associated with it are not as great as the actual virus. I had a conversation with someone from Health who indicated that there are already a couple of cases where people are having to be hooked up to ventilators. They are also reporting that they have never seen a virus quite like this one. It is scary!!

Just some food for thought!

Love,

Mom

November 2, 2009

FYI. Read the first article.

Barbara Palmer, Psy.D.

SEO - Student Support Services

Independent experts to study safety data on H1N1 vaccine

November 4, 2009

HI,

I just heard that another person has died in Newfoundland from H1N1 complications...40 years old. You & Craig definitely have to get vaccinated!!!!!!

Love,

Mom

*******************************************

....And these are just a few examples.

As Promised...

It seems that Blogger is even harder on photo quality than Facebook is. Also, for some reason, Blogger is currently forcing me to utilize underlined text. I don't think I enjoy you today, Blogger!

Due to the decreased photo quality (coupled with poor choice of positioning on our part) you cannot really see our costumes very well. So let's recap: I am a very unoriginal Superwoman (though the dress may seem super short in this picture, it's not actually that short and the costume was probably the least-skanky one I could find for females!) Craig bought a last-minute mask for $1.50 and pulled on my old witch dress. Winston is a hotdog (seriously, how amazing is that?) and Winnie is a very adorable witch. I may post better pictures of us at a later date. Or I may not. I'll let you wait it out in suspense.

Halloween ended up being kind of fun until we made the very stupid decision to go see "Paranormal Activity" late at night. Yes, despite the fact that I am a self-proclaimed, afraid-of-nearly-everything WIMP, for some reason I thought it might be fun to go see a movie that actually guarantees it will give you nightmares. It should be noted that I left my room and crawled into bed with my sister for many a night until she moved away for university and I had no choice but to suck it up and learn how to sleep in my own bed with the lights off. It should also be noted that Craig (who is not afraid of much) was watching the trailer for this movie the other night when the power went out. During the outage he would not let me leave his side because he was so struck by fear. (Sorry Craig).

I've actually been doing really well with my fears since high school. Until Saturday night, that is, when all those fears came rushing back. I went to this movie assuming it would be about ghosts. Ghosts I can handle. Ghosts were humans at one point. I was not aware that the movie was actually about demons, and let me tell you - I do NOT do demon movies.

Even though I literally spent two-thirds of the movie (at least) with my head down and fingers in my ears (the sounds in movies actually scare me more than the sights) I still know exactly everything that went down and it's been plaguing me at night. In the daytime I know my fears are nongermane and ridiculous. In the night all sense of logic and maturity goes out the window and I become that frightened little girl who has to sleep with a Bible under her pillow again! (I actually haven't gotten to that point yet, but I'm pretty close).

You'd think that since Craig is with me I would feel more comfortable, but he has no problem getting to sleep. So while he's frolicking through clouds in dreamland I am left alone to fend for myself. Thanks a lot Craig! It's a bit analogous to being late for a flight and running to catch it, but because he can run faster he makes it on and I don't. And then he waves to me through the window as the plane rises into the sky.

That it takes me so long to fall asleep is the problem. Sleep crawls in like a dying snail for me because my brain is overactive and then my imagination goes into overdrive. I'm always left behind. I remember spending the night in a tent with my mom, aunt, and cousins. My mom and aunt told us the scariest ghost stories, and then before I knew it EVERYBODY in the tent was asleep. Awesome. Enjoy your sleep guys. I'll just lie here like a security guard and wait to make sure none of the scary things you just told me about happens to you.

From now on I will research what a movie is about before I make a decision to go see it. This is a pact I am making with myself. And this is a warning to everyone who reads this that I might ever go see a movie with: do not drag me to a scary movie and then fall asleep before me! Or else I will break out my freaking super-soaker and while you're busy getting dried off I will fall asleep and leave you alone to deal with whatever is coming for us.

I actually had no intention of writing about the movie when I started this post and I probably should have avoided it because now all this is fresh in my mind and I have to go to bed. And, right now, of course, Craig (and even my two puppies) are already asleep.

So, I guess it's off to play security guard!

I Love Halloween

Photo Courtesy

New header today, in honour of one of my favourite days of the year!

Happy Halloween all you ghouls and goblins!

I sincerely wish that I could go trick-or-treating, but somehow I don't think people would be too enthused about having a 25 year old show up on their doorstep begging for free candy.

I do, however, have a costume. I've had it for a couple months now (the good costumes go like hot-cakes around here). Because I live in a basement apartment of a huge house and have a back entrance I don't really foresee us getting a lot of knocks on the door though. Which is slightly disappointing! Someday I'm going to have a house that is all decked out for Halloween. Actually, I've always wanted to make a haunted house. Mostly because I just love scaring the crap out of people. It's my favourite.

The last Halloween I REALLY got to celebrate was at my school in Korea. That was incredible. Halloween isn't really a part of their culture and so imagine how exciting it was for these kids who had never gone trick-or-treating before to get dressed up and indulge in that novelty. They LOVED it.

This year, I don't have any real Halloweeny plans, unfortunately! I think if we knew more people around here we would have hosted a Halloween costume party. I'm sure Winnie and Winston would have loved that! (Please take note of the extreme sarcasm. They would lose their minds).

Speaking of Winnie & Winston, their Aunt Lesley and Uncle Brad (haha) purchased their first Halloween costumes for them this year! I won't give away the surprise because I'm hoping to post some family Halloween pictures later. Let's just say, I kind of feel like Halloween is not going to be their #1 holiday of choice. :)

I hope you all have a super spooky day - to the point where you pee in your pants a little bit.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!