Thursday 31 December 2015

Should Men be allowed in Women's Bathrooms?

Transgender Accessable Washrooms.

The very idea made me uncomfortable.  I just didn't like it, because on one hand I wanted transgender people to be free to use the washroom, but on the other hand I was concerned about sexual assaults.  The two ideas conflicted enough to make me really uncomfortable when I thought about it.

I wasn't being transphobic.  I was remembering a serial rapist, that affected my life, but not as much as the lives of other young women.

During one year, that I was in university, there was almost one rape a month.  The university sent us emails, put up posters, and left cardboard triangle posters on every table in the cafeteria each time there was a rape.  The instructions were very clear: Travel in groups, use Safewalk at night, and don't use the bathroom if there wasn't anybody else in it.  Sometimes I delayed peeing for 30 minutes while I looked for another washroom.

Each lady's bathroom (I don't know about the men's bathrooms because I never used one) had a little resting stall.  It was big enough to hold a couch and a garbage basket.  The stall locked, and many women (myself included) used these stalls (without toilets or sinks), to lay down between classes and rest.

If you've never gone to a large university let me explain - there were 50,000 students in my university at the time I went, and the campus was huge.  Sometimes my back to back classes, were held so far away from each other that I had to run between classes, or be perpetually late for my second class.  The last class ended at 4:30, and by 5:00 the campus was almost empty.  Many professors held office hours after 5:00, and many campus clubs held activities after 5:00.  In the evening, the campus was darker, quieter, and a very good place to study.  Empty classrooms were easy to find, and my friends and I used them often to study in.  I also studied in empty rooms by myself.

It's in this environment, that after 5:00, I found something to eat, and often rested in one of bathrooms, on the couch.  Sometimes I would fall asleep before the evening activities began.  And I wasn't the only student to do this.  Sometimes those resting stalls were full, and I had to find another bathroom to rest in.  Because the resting stall was lockable, it was a safe place to nap, and not get my things stolen.

That was until the serial rapist entered the scene.  The university was trying hard to protect female students, and each time there was a rape, we were told about it.  Names were never given, but places and dates were given and the rape was always described.  Although details changed, the pattern was always the same.  It always happened in a bathroom, the rapist always hid in the resting stall, the women always thought she was the only one in the bathroom, after she used one of the toilet stalls, and while she was washing her hands, the rapist attacked her from the back, dragged her into the resting stall, raped her and ran away.  Because he always stayed behind her, she was never able to describe him.  The theory was, he waited in the resting stall for a woman to enter.

There was about one rape a month.  Suggestions (not rules) were made for female students, to keep us safer.  Self Defence classes were offered for free.  Safewalk was installed (campus police walked female students between buildings and to parking lots).  The campus was on high alert, and so was I.

I wasn't raped, but being in a place where rapes were happening every month, was anxiety ridden.  There were times I entered empty washrooms and turned around and went back out.  There were times I found other female students walking past the washroom, and asked them to come into the bathroom with me.  And there were times I didn't find anybody, and just didn't go until I found another washroom.  But washrooms were spaced so far apart that I had to wait 30 minutes or so just to find another one, and sometimes that one was empty too.

I was in this mindset when I heard that men wanted to be allowed to use women's washrooms.  Thinking to myself it would be so much easier for a rapist to rape me, if he didn't even have to hide the  fact that he was male, and in a women's washroom.

When Jazz Jennings said "I just want to pee in peace", I empathized with her.  I didn't think she'd be a rapist.  I didn't even think of her as male.

And that's the thing.   That's where the difference lies.  I have no idea what Jazz Jennings genitals are like, nor am I particularly interested in knowing such a thing.  But I do know that she is transgendered and she is a "Girl", not a "Boy".

But I didn't really put that together.  I was uncomfortable being one the side that thought transgender friendly washrooms just shouldn't be.  I didn't want to be there, on the transphobic side.  But an entire year of being reminded women were getting raped in our bathrooms, could not be undone that easily.

And then last night I discovered "Last Week Tonight", with John Oliver.  I know, you americans might be thinking "What - she never heard of John Oliver before", but I'm Canadian and you probably never heard to Rick Mercer before.  Different country, different culture.

I got so involved with John Oliver, that I watched 4 "Last Week Tonight" episodes in one night.  And one of those episodes was called Transgender Rights.

Very succinctly John Oliver helped me to realize that these transgender people, will not be men.  They will be women, who look like women, who dress like women, and who want to use women's bathrooms.  They will not men inline for the women's bathroom, dressed like men, and looking extremely out of place.  They will look like they are in the right place, because they will be women.

There will still be men, who want to rape women.  They may even use the same MO the serial rapist at my university used, but transgender women using the same washroom as me, will not make it easier for these men, because it will still be a line up of women waiting to use the stalls.  It won't be a line of up women, with a few men.  Whatever their genitals, they will look like women, and they will be women.

A man in the women's bathroom, will still be extremely out of place.  A man in the women's bathroom, will still be told to get out.

The difference is: transgender women are women, and male rapists are men.  (Not that transgender women can't be rapists too, but then non-transgender women can also sexually assault others - but that is a whole different subject and I'm not going to cover it here.  If fact I don't think I'll cover it anywhere.)

My fear was, that if the female washrooms had been transgender accessible at the time I was going to university, that there would have been more rape victims.  But after watching John Oliver make jokes about it, I realize I was wrong.  There might have, at that time, even been transgender women using the women's washrooms, and I might not have known at all.

A man, wearing a dress, will still look like a man wearing a dress.  It will be very obvious that somebody is trying to use these accessible washrooms in the wrong way.  These men will still look like men, because they will be men.  Transgender women are not men, and it will be obvious they just want to pee.  What won't be obvious is what genitals they have or don't have.

In fact I'm not even sure how to tell a transgender person from a non-transgender person.  Rules that ban transgender people from bathrooms of their own gender, would be extremely hard to enforce.  Are the authorities going to hire bathroom police that inspect each person's genitals before they can enter the appropriate bathroom?  That would make everybody uncomfortable.

....

And the rapist - after a year all the rapes abruptly stopped for no apparent reason.  He wasn't caught.  Some of his victims never came back to school.

Years after I was finished university, I looked up the rapist in the internet.  I found out that very similar rapes with very similar MOs started the next year at another Canadian university.  That man was caught after kidnapping a woman and keeping her captive, while repeatedly raping her, for many hours.  He was caught, and his DNA was matched to the rapes at the university I went to.  He was never charged with those crimes, but he was charged with the kidnapping and rape of his last victim.

Wednesday 30 December 2015

I don't have bedbugs but I still can't sleep.

Tonight, I found a bug.  A big black, hairy bug, the size of an iPad....

No just kidding.  It was small, roundish and brownish black.  And I immediately thought "Bed Bug".

I spent the last hour learning about bedbugs, and concluded that it wasn't a bed bug because I only found one, despite looking for more, it doesn't look like the pictures of bedbugs I saw (no strips), and I found it in the middle of my bedspread on my made bed, and bedbugs like to hide, not sit out in the open.

But still....

I feel so creepy crawly.  I'm just so creeped out, wondering what it was.

I think it was just a one off bug, and no others.  My mother thinks it came from the dog, who likes to go out and roll in the leaves and grass outside.

  I hope so.  I really do, and if I had found it anywhere else, like the kitchen floor I might not be so creeped out.

  I feel like I need a bath, but it seems ridiculous to have a bath after midnight.

Tuesday 29 December 2015

Miss Queen Bee has lost her looks

I saw an old classmate the other day.  I didn't say hi, because I had nothing I wanted to say to her.

She was the "pretty" girl, that all the boys liked. She was the Queen Bee, that lead the class with cruelty.  She actually shared that roll with another girl, and together the two of them, thought they were smarter, better looking, and just all around more deserving than anybody else in class.  They decided who was popular and who was not.

And I was not popular.

I'm not going to name her.  That would just be bullying.

I will however, contradict myself.  Before Christmas I posted I want to live in a world where empathy and love are more important that weight and beauty and I still do.  But this week...

Well I saw this Queen Bee, and she's as fat, dopey, and ugly.  Now don't get me wrong.  I also said in A relationship can not be based on looks because looks don't last post that I had gained weight, and I have.

This brings about contradictory feelings.  One one hand I still want to live in a world where empathy and love are more important that weight and beauty, but on the other hand, I'm very satisfied that Miss Popular is no long the "pretty girl".  She's rather unattractive.  Very dopey looking actually.  In fact her outsides are almost as ugly as her insides.

Today she'd lose the popularity contest both in looks, and in empathy and love, because believe me she never had empathy or love and now she doesn't have looks either.

And does that mean I don't have empathy or love either?  Because I'm certainly not feeling it for Miss No-longer-pretty.

Instead it seems like poetic justice.

Oh and just so you know - the idea that every girl is either a Queen Bee or a Wanna Bee, is completely wrong.  I never wanted to be this girls friend, or in the popular crowd because they were mean vicious girls that I didn't like.  I didn't want to be like them, didn't want to be friends with them, and didn't want anything to do with them.  If being in the popular crowd meant hanging around with these girls, I didn't want it.  I was neither a Queen Bee or a Wanna Bee.  That's just a lie the mean girls want to believe to make themselves more important.

Monday 28 December 2015

I am not a mistake and neither is anybody else.

"People can't be transgendered because God doesn't make mistakes".

I've heard variations of that statement several times while watching countless videos about transgender people.  The last time, was when somebody from the catholic school board was explaining why their schools would never included transgender children.

Like many people, I am extremely offended by that statement, but unlike many people it's not because I'm transgendered or even know anybody whose transgendered.

I was born sick.  My parents were told I would die.  I didn't.

That's an extremely short version of my infant and toddlerhood, but it will do for what I want to say.

If being transgendered or homosexual means God made a mistake, then what about the sick baby, whose organs weren't quite constructed in the typical way, and needed several surgeries by the age of three?  Does that make me a mistake?

Did God not intend to make me?  Was he maybe just not paying attention when he made me, and messed up my organs in some way?  Maybe he intended me to die before birth?  Is my very existence a mistake?

I vehemently say "NO!".  I scream it.  The very thought of my existence being a mistake is extremely offensive.

I am not a mistake, and neither are those who born with missing limbs, or those who are born transgender or homosexual (and yes they are born that way), or those who are born as little people, or blind, or when learning disabilities, or those who for any reason are born differently than the typical person.

I do believe in God.  I don't know why I wasn't perfectly healthy at birth.  I have theories, but none of them are tested or even half way believed.  (Hey I've had years to think about my health problems that still bother me to this day).

Does God make mistakes?  It's an uncomfortable question to ask.  It's one I don't like even thinking about.  My gut says "no", but then how do you explain me, the baby doctors believed would die?

Just as I don't know why some people are born with red hair, some have feet size 11 1/2, some love the colour yellow, and some hate the taste of ketchup.

We are all different.  And yes, we are all the same.  But is any one of us any better or worse than anybody else?  Does any one of us have a difference that is so huge it must have been a mistake?

I believe my health problems have given me qualities that other's don't have.  I'm not going to explain them here, but...

Did God make a mistake when he made me?  No.  Did he make a mistake when he made the little transgender girl who wanted to wear a girl uniform and go to the girls bathroom in her catholic school?  No.  Did he make a mistake when he made anybody.  No.

Why are those people that way?  I don't know.

I do know that when you say that a transgender child simply can't be because God doesn't make mistakes, you are insulting me.  You can't deny that I had many surgeries before I was three.  My scars prove it.  You can't deny that my parents were told I would die.

I am prove, that people can be born different than the typical person and not be a mistake.

Oh and that guy who said that...  Well the human rights commission made him eat his words.  His school was made to acknowledge transgender people, and allow them to be the gender they are at school.  Unfortunately the little girl, ended up leaving the school before that happened.


Sunday 27 December 2015

Can non-transgendered people live an authentic life?

Ever since I found out about transgender people, I have been very interested in them.  I thought of using the word obsessed, but it's not obsession, it's interest.  It's the same kind of interest I had when I read one of Elizabeth Kubler Ross's books.  I became very interested in everything she wrote, and read all of her books in less than a month.  Was it obsession?  I don't think so.  I just like to learn.

Anyways moving on.

I wondered why?  Why was I so interested in transgender people?  I watched countless youtube videos, I bought the show "I am Jazz" on iTunes, and I sought out information.

Was I transgendered?  No.

Was I gay?  No.

I kept asking myself these questions, but the answers to all of them remain the same.  I am a heterosexual female who very much loves being a women.  When I first heard about "penis envy", in a first year psychology class, I thought "ew.  Who would ever want a penis?"  I just couldn't understand, and decided then and there that Freud was an idiot.  I still think Freud was an idiot, for that and other reasons....  Moving on again...

So if I wasn't transgendered, wasn't gay, and didn't fit on the LGBT community in anyway, why was I so facinated with the transgender idea?

And I think I've found an answer.  Tonight I was watching yet another set of videos done by yet another transgender person about transitioning and being transitioned, and I figured it out.

It's the authentic lifestyle that attracts me.

I spend much of my day being afraid.  I'm afraid of doing the wrong thing, of making the wrong decision, of saying the wrong thing, and of countless other things.

Last week Mom took hamburger out of the deep freeze and said "I defrosted hamburger, make anything you want" (I do 90% of the cooking).  I couldn't decide.  Spaghetti, tacos, and hamburgers raced through my mind.  I had no idea.  The hamburger sat in the fridge for two days while I agonized over what to make.  I couldn't do it, and in the end, I put it back in the freezer, and went out a bought hamburgers.  It's still in the freezer, and it should be defrosted again.  But....

Yesterday I started to do something I've wanted to do for a long time.  I am a comic book fan, and I wanted to sort my comic book stories by writer.  The week before I bought multiple comic books of the same kind, cut them up, and put all pages of the same stories together.  And then....  What?  What's the right way to make a scrapbook of comic book stories, categorized by writer?  What kind of scrapbook should I use?  Should I make comments about which writer I like better, or just leave it?  What order should I put the stories in?  Should I use tape or glue?

I was almost in tears, before I just got up and announced "I'll finish this tomorrow".  And then today, when I did start it again, I did decide, but even as I did it, I continually questioned if I even should be doing it?  It's not helping anybody?  It's not in any way serving anybody else and making anybody else's live better?  Maybe I should be cleaning instead?  Maybe I should be doing this or that, or there were several other things I could have been doing.  I felt so anxious about doing the wrong thing.  I didn't enjoy it at all, and yet it was something I wanted to do for months.

And maybe that's it.  Maybe I'm not living my own authentic life?  Maybe transgender people who so bravely, announce that they are going to be who they want to be and do what they want to do, even when others don't want them to, are giving me hope.  They announce who they really are, and then just be are who they really are.

And if I did that, I wouldn't be saying "hey I'm a boy", because really I am a girl, have always known I was a girl, and always wanted to be a girl.

But I would be saying "I like comics", and "I'm going to be a writer", and "I'm not your servant", and "I'm doing what I want to do, and I know you don't want me to do it, but I'm doing it anyway", and "my live is going to be about making me happy (just a little bit), and although I still love you, I can't dedicate my life to making you happy anymore".

And maybe those transgender stories, that I watch again and again, are telling me I can do it.  Those stories never end in "I wish I'd never done it.  Others was right.  I am a boy/girl."  They always end "I'm so happy I decided to live an authentic live".

Would I be that happy?

Saturday 26 December 2015

I didn't have a Christmas

Boxing Day.

It just doesn't seem like Christmas is over yet.  For me it's not over, anyway, because right now as I write this it's almost 11:00 on Christmas Day night.

For you, reading this, it's Boxing Day, and the big day of Christmas is over.

For me.  Well Christmas wasn't a big day today.  There was no Christmas dinner, no friends and family, and no presents.  My father fixed the kitchen chairs that were falling apart and then went to Christmas dinner at my cousins house.  We all got a last minute invitation (like 2 hours before it started invitation), but my mother didn't want to go.  I sort of wanted to go.  The turkey, stuffing and gravy beckoned me.  But my mother was sick, and it seemed cruel to leave her alone on Christmas Day.

We haven't actually spent a proper Christmas in 3 years.  Ever since her Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus reared it's ugly head, Mom has wanted nothing to do with Christmas.  She doesn't want to cook, and she doesn't want to visit.  She gets tired out too easily, and doesn't want to have anything to do with large family gatherings.

And so, we've canceled Christmas - doing things like going out to eat, or just having small family gatherings with a small non-christmas like supper.  We haven't shopped for gifts, and we've given money to the only child in the family instead of bought presents.  (He loves getting hundreds of dollars at Christmas time, and a few days ago I asked if he missed getting presents, but he backed away and said he'd rather have the money.)  We haven't put up a tree or decorated in any way.  We haven't made any Christmas baking, or gone to any Christmas parties.

And if I were being honest, I'd say I miss it.  I'd say that I really want to exchange presents, and have Christmas supper, and spend all day together, doing all sorts of things like we used to.

But I'm not honest.  I tell Mom, that it's ok.  That I'd rather not have Christmas either.

I search out ways to make it Christmas just for myself, like saying Merry Christmas, and singing Happy Birthday to Jesus in the morning.  But it just doesn't seem like Christmas.  It seems like Christmas has been canceled and apart of me is resentful that Mom insists on cancelling every year for three years in a row.

And next Christmas....  Well I don't know if I'll have the guts to say "I want Christmas.", but if I was being honest, I would have even said it this year.

Friday 25 December 2015

Merry Christmas

For me: it's Christmas Eve.

For you: It's Christmas Day.

Merry Christmas.  I hope your day is wonderful, happy, joyous and content.

I'm not sure what were doing for Christmas.  As I mentioned before, we already had Christmas super at a restaurant on the 23rd.  Tomorrow.  Well I don't want it to be just any other day.  And yet, my father wants to clean.

I have no idea.

But anyways Merry Christmas.  Remember Jesus is the Reason for the Season, and he loves you.  Many people (those who call themselves christians included), think that Jesus was hateful and God is judgemental.  That's not true.  Jesus loves you.

Those who say that God abhors gays, picket abortion clinics, tell transgenders that gender can't be changed, and generally use the bible to bring down judgement and hatred on whole groups of people are wrong.

Those people forget one simple little message: love your neighbours as yourself.  The entire bible is about love.  And that kind of crap isn't love.

Please just ask God to show himself and the truth to you.  He's a good teacher, and he will do it.

Merry Christmas.

Thursday 24 December 2015

We won't be doing anything special for Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.

Hi:

   Long time no see.

   For those of you who were still looking at my blog when I was sick and not posting, thanks for still coming to my blog, and reading the referral posts I made.

   I'm feeling better.  My antibiotics aren't done, but I am feeling better.

   My mother is still sick, and wobbly.  For those of you who haven't read my about page, I am my mother's full time caregiver.  She has Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus, and was in the hospital for a long time.  When she gets an infection, many of the symptoms from her NPH come back.  Right now she has a bladder infection (her 3rd in two months), and she's still wobbly, and sick feeling.  She needs to hold on to somebody when she walks outside, gets tired easily, and didn't want to celebrate christmas at all.

  Last night, we went out for super with my brother, sister-in-law and nephew.  It was a horrible supper, that tasted bad, but the waiter gave very good service.  We left him a large tip.  I never really know what to tip, but this time we all agreed, that he did a wonderful job and deserved a big tip.

   Christmas will be really weird, because we aren't doing anything.  We're just going to stay home.  It's not fair to go out for super, on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.  My brother, sister-in-law and nephew are going to one of their friends houses on Christmas Day.  My mother, father and I are just going to stay home, and pretend it's just a day that's not special.

  That kinda makes me sad.  I wish we could actually do something on Christmas.  We exchanged gifts today, before going out to eat, but....  We it just doesn't seem right.

  On the way home we saw a horrible three car accident.  I read in the news, that nine people were sent to hospital.  One of them even had a heart attack in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, but the EMT's were able to revive him.  He and one other person are in critical condition.

   They might be having one horrible christmas and might just wish it was just any other day.  If you are the praying kind, please pray for them?

Wednesday 23 December 2015

Dieting hardly ever works

A neuroscientist explains why dieting hardly ever works.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jn0Ygp7pMbA

Tuesday 22 December 2015

Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus

My mother has Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus, which is often misdiagnosed as Alzheimer's or Parkinson's.

This video explains the symptoms and treatments of NPH.

Monday 21 December 2015

An independent Newspaper

Independent media in Canada is very rare.

There is one independent "newspaper" (if you can call an online newspaper a newspaper), that Raffi (yes the famous children's singer) tweeted about during the last Canadian election.  It is called "The Tyee", and I suggest you check it out.  You can do so here.

Saturday 19 December 2015

Till Weight Do Us Part - a Referral to another blog, because I'm too sick to think coherently enough to write my own post.

As I said before I'm sick.  Despite that, I had a very busy day today, and now as the day is winding down, I'm not awake enough or healthy enough to write any sort of coherent blog post.

That being said - I still have something for you to read.

The Militant Baker, is a very good blog, that I check out about once a month.  I suggest that you put it on your list of blogs to check out too.  You can even subscribe if you want to.

Last week I wrote a blog post about a boy I knew in college who wanted to only date beautiful people.  It was called A relationship can't be based on beauty because beauty doesn't last.  Today the Militant Baker posted an article that's related to that.  Her post is: Till Weight Do Us Part, and if you liked my post last week, you'll like her's this week.



P.S.

It's Friday evening, the day I usually write the political posts for Saturday and Sunday.  Tomorrow I'll hopefully feel more rested, because I have an entire day off.  If I'm feeling better I'll valiantly try to write the political posts for the weekend.  If I'm not, this post I'm referring you to now, will be ready for your to read on Saturday Morning.  Each morning you will get to read a new post, even if I'm only referring you to somebody else's blog.

When I'm better, I will resume to my regular posting, that I write myself.

Until then....  Please wish me well.

Friday 18 December 2015

My Christmas Plans

I have a sinus infection, and am taking antibiotics, and I just don't feel well enough to write something wise and wonderful today.

Christmas is coming up and I don't know how I'm going to get my presents bought.  My mother is sick too (with a bladder infection) and is also taking antibiotics.  Today she said "I want to cancel christmas", and I didn't really have the energy to disagree.

The thought of making a turkey, and all the usual christmas dishes, of putting up a tree and decorating, seems overwhelming.

Dad suggested we have christmas at a restaurant, and so we're going out to a nice restaurant before Christmas, and then on Christmas Day - well it will be like any other day.

Thursday 17 December 2015

Underground Trampoline

This is a video about an underground trampoline in whales.   I'm posting it because I'm tired, and can't think of anything to write about, that doesn't match my mood of dark thoughts.

Underground Trampoline

Wednesday 16 December 2015

I hate motivational speakers

Yep, you heard me.  I hate motivational speakers.

The speech always goes like this:

  1. I have a problem that nobody else has (usually a disability)
  2. I succeeded at something everybody else succeeds in (or conversely I succeeded at something others don't have to succeed at)
  3. If I succeeded, there's no reason why you can't succeed.
This type of speech makes a few assumptions that are not true.

The first thing it implies is that the speakers problem is worse than anybody else's problem ever has been or ever will be.  This simply isn't true.  You can't tell what another person has been through simply by looking at them.  You need those people to tell you about their problems, and they certainly are not going to do that, when you're telling them that every problem they've ever had is trivial.

There are all sorts of problems, that are not visible: domestic abuse, sexual assault, house fires, refugee status, alcoholism, kidney problems, neurological disorders, and past childhood trauma.  None of these things can be understood simply by looking at a person.  But each other them (an several other things), can seem like insurmountable problems.

And these insurmountable problems, can often interfere with success.

There are so many things that influence success: health, finances, education, family support, access to statehood, and many other things.

To say "I have _____ and I succeeded so there's no reason why you shouldn't.", is being very disrespectful to anybody else who has ever suffered in a different way than the motivational speaker has.

And that's why I don't like motivational speakers.  They are disrespectful, and their message is usually a lie.

Tuesday 15 December 2015

Reducing Stress by Reducing iPad Games.

Each night, after Mom goes to bed between 9:00 and 10:00, I settle in for some alone time.  I check my blog, write a post or two, watch some youtube, cuddle with the dog, and maybe watch some news.

Tonight I did something different.  I played a new game I downloaded to my iPad.  The game was strangely addicting, even though it was frustrating.  It was so slow, but had the promise of becoming exciting as I played.  But it never did become exciting.  It continued to go slowly as it frustrated me with just kept out of reach promises.

It didn't relax me and set me into that quite peaceful mode I enter when I spend my alone time.

Why did I play it?  Well as I said, it always kept those good powers, just out of reach.  Once I attained a level needed for a power I realized the that power wasn't good at all, and I craved for the next power, only to find that power wasn't that good either.

I have to start being more in tuned with my feelings.  When I'm feeling frustration (or any other negative emotion), I need to ask myself why.  Why am I feeling so frustrated?  What is making me frustrated?  Is this a needed frustration?

The answers to those questions tonight, are:

  1. I'm feeling frustrated because the game isn't what it promises to be. 
  2. The game is designed to make me continually want more than I have.
  3. This not a needed frustration.  I don't need to finish this game.  Getting to the top level will not help me or anybody else in any way.  If it does make me happy, it will be a fleeting happiness.


And with those questions, I need to act on them.  I need to realize the game is only adding stress to an already stressful live and quit playing.

It's been 15 minutes since I turned the game off, and I'm still stressed.  Ideas like:

  • I could beat this game
  • I quit too early
  • It will be fun once I beat the next level
  • I need to continue
But I don't need to continue.  All of those statements are lies.

Several months ago, I realized that I am not taking care of my emotional health, and I need to start.  I've been reducing the stress that doesn't matter in my live.  Perfect strangers that are in my social media, but are rude to me.  They get blocked.

I've been doing things that make me happy.  Like starting this blog.

And this game, I know realize has got to be limited.  It's a good game for playing when my mother and I are talking or listening to a book on CD.  When I'm not thinking about it and trying to reach a level, but listening to somebody else talk, it's not stressful at all.

It is stressful when it's just me and the game.

And that is when - the game won't get played.

Because I'm more important than some dumb game, that wants more and more of me as the levels progress.

Monday 14 December 2015

A relationship can not be based on looks, because looks don't last.

Several years ago, when I was in college, and thought I had "grown up", and new as much as every other adult (boy was I wrong), a platonic male friend of mine empathetically stated, that he was talking to some of the other boys in his dorm, and they had decided that they could never marry (or even date) anybody who was unattractive.

He used what he thought was evidence that sexual attraction was a big part of marriage and without it a marriage couldn't exist.

I disagreed.  Being empathetic, and a fighter for the underdog, I argued "what about the ugly people?", imaging those with burn scars, and horrific injuries.

He said "no, no, it can't be done."

It didn't make sense to me.  Why base a relationship on looks.  He argued that he wasn't.  Of course he'd want other good qualities in a mate, but she would have to be attractive.

Evidently, he thought I was attractive, because less than a year later, I sat on the floor in office of my home, with the light off, and listened to him cry on the other end of the phone.  He loved me.  He was afraid to tell me.  He couldn't take rejection.  What if it ended our friendship?

He was right to wonder about such things, because I did say no, and it did end our friendship.  At first I thought we could just be friends, but things changed, he became very nasty, and I told him I never wanted to see him again.

I've wondered about him over the years, and even felt guilty for ending it the way I did, but I just couldn't go out with him.  He was ironically, unattractive, actually he didn't know it but he bordered on ugly.  That wasn't the reason I didn't go out with him.  I won't go into tearing him apart in this blog post, but just trust me, there were other reasons.

Ironically, I am no longer attractive.  I've gotten older, gained weight, and quit wearing make-up.  I am not small thin adolescent beauty I used to be.  I was only 19, when he was so attracted to me.

What if I had said "yes"?  What if we had gotten married, had kids, and lived the cosy nuclear family life that he wanted so much?  Would divorce have followed?  Would our children be left without a Dad, as he and his siblings were?

It's impossible to stay beautiful until your 90's.  (No I'm not 90 - not even close).  Eventually age makes that teen / 20 something body disappear.  I'm sure he doesn't look like he did when he was 19 either.  I'm sure he's even uglier than he used to be.

Why does the society we live in, place so much value in something that's useless, without substance, and shallow?

If he found a beautiful girl, she's not 19 anymore.  Maybe she's skinny.  Maybe she wears make up.  But I can guarantee she doesn't look like she did when they first met.  And does that make her any less worthy?  Does it make her any less loved?  For his sake I hope not.  Otherwise his marriage will end the same way his parents did.

A marriage can not be based on looks, because looks don't last.

And me.  I'm very happy that I said no, and I'm very glad that I told him never to contact me again.  I deserve to be judged by my quality of character and not my quality of looks.

Sunday 13 December 2015

I know that it's like to flee danger in the middle of the night.

I know what it's like to flee my house in the middle of the night, with almost nothing.  I know the panic of danger, and the urgent need to get everybody out.  And I know how hard it is to leave your own house, a house you lived in for years, because you can't find a way out.

No I am not a refugee.

Yes I do know.

What I was fleeing was: fire.  One of our doors had a fire blocking it, another was frozen shut because we never use it, and our escape ended up being a window.  It was -47 C (-52 C with windchill), outside, and being outside in nothing but pyjamas wasn't very safe, but it was safer than staying inside with the flames.

I know what it's like to flee into the middle of the night, and not know where you're going, only that you have to leave.  I know what's like to lose everything, but still be thankful that every living thing survived.

And that is one of the reasons I'm thankful that Canada is supporting 25,000 refugees.

I have other reasons.  When we were fleeing the fire, I grabbed my purse and my mother's purse, because I worked with somebody who was a refugee.  I'd heard how difficult it is to prove who you are, without an ID, and I wasn't going to be in that difficult situation of trying to prove I lived in the house that burned down.

It took us 9 months to work through the insurance, get our house rebuilt and move back in and then another 2 years of court cases to get everything settled.

And I wasn't a refugee.  I didn't have to move to another country, live in a refugee camp, risk my live, or learn a new language.  And still the wounds of that fire still hurt.  It's been almost 5 years and I still don't trust.  My home is not a place of safety anymore.  It's a place of hurt and danger.  I don't know if I'll ever feel save again, because I know now that anything can happen to me, even at home, where I once felt safe.

The refugees must feel that way too.  They didn't flee a fire, they fled bombings and gunfire.  Unlike my family, they didn't get a chance to go home.  If they don't get refugee status in some country, they will not belong to any country.  They will never be able to even have a chance to feel safe again, if we don't allow them to come to Canada.

Recently I saw a picture on twitter, of a home that was ready for a new refugee family.  It looked a lot like the furnished home, that the insurance agency settled us in, while our home was rebuilt.  I remembered how thankful I was that there were homes, available to those that had nothing because of fire.  Everything was in that house, including dish washer detergent.  We were given $50 each to buy clothing.  I lived with one pair of jeans, one t-shirts, one jacket, one pair of shoes and several pairs of underwear and socks for 9 months.  It it wasn't that hard to live with next to nothing.

I wonder if that's how the refugees feel?

There are other reasons that I believe refugees should be welcomed in Canada, and maybe I'll share those reasons with you at another time, but right now, this is what I'm sharing.

I don't know what it's like to be a refugee but I can imagine that it must be even scarier than fleeing from a burning house, because at least we had insurance, and we knew that eventually things would be replaced.  Refugees don't know that.  They truly have nothing, not even statehood, if we don't give it to them.

Saturday 12 December 2015

Duffy, Refugees, Nobel Physics Prise, and other things in Canadian Politics that happened this week.

Saturday.  The day I said I would tell you everything that went on in Canadian Politics.

A few things of interest happened.  Mike Duffy testified in his own trial.  His defence: The devil (oops no sorry uh that's) Harper made me do it.

Yes that, old sorry defence, has been rewritten and reused.  Apparently Mike Duffy doesn't have the ability to say "no".  He's conservative puppet, and even though he had reservations about saying he was from PEI, he did it anyway because Harper asked him too.

That excuse is just not good enough.  Not at all.  People do it all the time.  They disagree.  They say no.  They refuse.

Besides, isn't Duffy strong enough to stand up to JR (oops did it again - sorry wrong Duffy - not Patrick Duffy - Mike Duffy, you know that one that was charged with bribery over the paltry sum of $90,000.00).

____

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau (at least he's not going by the Right Honourable Prime Minister Stephen Harper), but why would he, he's not Stephen Harper.  Our Prime Minister is Justin Trudeau, and he, not that other guy, went to Quebec City, to meet with Phillippe Couillard, the Premier of Quebec.

_____

Justin (I'll just call him that, because it's easier to write - well not if I include an explanation each time - but anyways), Justin congratulated Dr. Arthur B. McDonald for winning the Nobel Prize in Physics.

And so do I.  Congratulations Dr. McDonald.

_____

Justin released several media advisories, telling reporters when he, and some of his cabinet ministers would be available for questioning.  If you aren't a reporter, which I'm not, those advisories are kinda boring and I won't go into them.  If you are a reporter, you don't need me to tell you about them, you probably signed up for the same email subscription from the PMO that I did.  And you're probably not reading this anyway.

____

So going on....

_____

The first of 25,000 refugees arrived in Canada.  Justin, Kathleen Wynne, and several other dignitaries met them at Pearson International Airport.  The first group was a family with a 16 month old daughter.  I think their daughter was a terrorists.  You should see her when she has temper tantrums.

____

I love politics, but I know that some people find it dull and boring.  If your of the dull and boring variety (no not dull and boring people, I mean find politics dull and boring - sorry for the insult) I hope I made Canadian Politics a little bit more entertaining for you, and have informed you at the same time.


Friday 11 December 2015

Can we just skip the teen years altogether?

Right now, as you are reading this, I will be visiting with my brother, sister-in-law, nephew and mother.  We will gather around the table, or sit in the living room on our deep blue leather couches, and talk what would seem like babbling to others.  Two or three will talk across the room from each other, as two or three talk in a separate conversation, and then we will all join together, and then split up in into groups again.  And the conversation will go like that for 2 hours, before my brother, sister-in-law and nephew get up to go to a hockey game.

I love my nephew very much.  I was his nanny when he was young, and he's growing up.  He's getting more independent.  And yet he's so young.  When I was his age, I thought I was old.  Those little kids, they were young, but my friends and, we were old.

But my nephew, I'm not ready for him to enter the teen years.  I'm sure he's ready.  But I still remember when he pronounced the "ch" sound as "sh", and I had to rock him, before his afternoon nap.

I'm afraid of what the teen years will bring.  It seems that all sorts of awful things, like drug and alcohol addiction, eating disorders, smoking, and bad self-esteems start in the teen years.

I want him to magically skip his teen years altogether and become 21 in an instant, jumping past all those messy years.

But that's not possible, and I pray that he will come out the other side, without any scars, wounds or hurts that can't be 100% healed within few weeks of injury.

Thursday 10 December 2015

Night is my alone time.

It's late at night again.  Mom's in bed.  My dog just jumped off the couch and went to bed on her own.  She does that sometimes.

Night time is usually my time, to think, be myself, and just be alone.  I've always needed time to be alone.  Even as a child, I sometimes sought out places to just be by myself.  I had friends, and I loved spending time with them, but I also wanted to just be by myself sometimes.

Without my alone time, I get grumpy and anxious.  I don't enjoy my time with other people, if I haven't had my alone time.

And there's nothing wrong with that.

Wednesday 9 December 2015

It's late

It's late.  It's about the time I would write tomorrow's post, but I haven't written a post for today yet.  And I don't know what to write about.

Today Mom and I worked on a huge project.  When I suggested this project, I thought it would take 30 minutes - 1 hour tops.  I was wrong.  It took all afternoon yesterday, and all day today.  And we're still not done.  I'm starting to wonder if we'll ever get done, and if we're doing it right.  But we've started now, and we are going to finish it.

And I don't really know what else to say.  I'm even in that kind of mood, where I'm wondering if I should keep this blog, if anybody actually reads it, and well...

Before I go on and ruin it, I'll just end this post now.

The end.

Tuesday 8 December 2015

I want to live in a world where empathy and love are more important than weight and beauty.

I'm looking forward to a time, when people aren't judged by things that don't matter.

If everybody in the world was skinny, would the world improve?  Imagine.  The so-called obesity epidemic is over.  Everybody magically lost weight.  Would the world improve?  Would all the wars end?  Would refugees be able to go home?  Would illness, homelessness, and domestic abuse end?

No.  Yet somehow we think our lives will improve.  Why?

If everybody turned beautiful, would the world improve?  Would you're live improve if you never had to look at an ugly person again?  Every woman had her cinderella storey, in which some fairy godmother came around, and gave her beauty, would child abuse end?  What about the school drop out rates?  Childhood poverty?  Would any of it change?

No.  Yet somehow people spend an inordinate amount of time and money,  changing our looks.  But why?  Does it help anybody?  Does an ugly person make the world even worse by being ugly?

Why do we judge each other on superficial things?

I once listened to a radio interview, in which they were discussing "that over-weight singer Adele."  They didn't discuss her singing, her accomplishments or anything.  They just talked about her weight.  As if that made any difference.

We judge each other on weight, beauty, race, gender, sexual-orientation, health, wealth, and a whole bunch of other things we can't change about ourselves.

Why?  If we were all the same would we quit fighting?

Why don't we judge each other on love, kindness, gentleness, empathy, understanding, and how we treat each other?

I want to live in that world.  The one where empathy and kindness are valued more than beauty and weight.  The one where love for others comes with privilege, not being white and male.

I want to live in a world, where domestic abuse is more of a crime than being black.  Where those who have power are the ones that earned it by their kindness, instead of bought it by their money.  Where somebody like Donald Trump isn't even considered good enough for leadership, because he's racist and sexist.  Where the term "but she has a good personality" doesn't exist.

Because what's wrong with having a good personality?

Monday 7 December 2015

I want to be my own friend.

I want to accept myself as I am.  I don't want to think I'm too anything or not enough anything.  Constantly, throughout the day I'm thinking "If only I were this...."

But would being this or that, or just different in any way, make anybody's live any better?  Am I really that bad?

I haven't murdered anybody.  I've never even done a crime?  I got a speeding ticket, once, but that hardly counts me as a criminal.

I try to treat others as I want to be treated.  I'm empathetic, and understanding.  Isn't that enough?

Do I have to be skinnier, richer, more successful, more connected or more anything to make life better?  Would my life be better?  Would your life be better?  Would anybody else's life be better if I was prettier, more athletic, and better at training my dog (she doesn't bite or anything - she just doesn't sit or stay or anything 100% of the time).

I don't think so.  So why do I spend so much of my day, finding imaginary faults, and tearing myself apart?

I want to love myself exactly as I am.  I want to accept myself exactly as I am.  I want to be happy with who I am and what I've done, and not do anything to change anything about myself.

But...  I was told that was pride, and pride is wrong.

But really how wrong is pride?  And just what is pride?  Isn't it ok, if I quit being my own critic, and start being my own friend?

Because really what I say to myself, in my head, where nobody else can hear, are things I would never say to anybody else.  I don't treat myself as a friend.  But I want to start.

I want to tell myself "yes you can do it", and "you're wonderful", and "good job" and other such encouraging and loving things.

And isn't that ok?

Who says I have to treat myself as an enemy?

Sunday 6 December 2015

Yes I am arguing semantics.

"You're arguing semantics", something said to me in a very authoritative and unfriendly tone of voice.

I was 19 years old, and going college.  I didn't know what semantics were, and I asked.

The answer: "What you're doing right now."

That didn't help at all, and it ruined my line of thought.  I still didn't agree, but didn't know what I was doing wrong in the discussion.

~

Semantics, is the agreement of the meanings of words and phrases, and although somebody seem to think arguing semantics, is trivial or wrong, it is very important.

If two people are ever going to discuss anything they, better agree on semantics.  If those same two people, don't agree on semantics, or don't know that they disagree on semantics, misunderstands, hurt feelings, and anger will result.

Have you ever had a discussion with somebody, only to realize you were both saying the same thing, in different ways but didn't know it.  It's because you didn't agree on the semantics.

Language and communication, hinges on agreed semantics.  If I think that the wet stuff that is coming from the sky is called snow, but somebody else thinks it's called rain, our resulting conversation about it, will be confusing to both of us.  And conversely, if I think that a car is anything that has four wheels and drives, but somebody else thinks a car must be a sedan, than we will be talking about two different things when we talk about cars.  The problem is, if we don't agree not the semantics before hand, both of us, will be confused.  Arguments can result in angered upon semantics.  Hurt feelings, broken friendship and resentments can result from arguments.

If you took it further, and nobody ever agreed on semantics, nobody would understand what anybody was saying.  It would be like everybody speaking a separate language.  Understanding each other depends on us all having the same understanding of the meanings of words and phrases.  If for instance, I say "Let's watch TV", but somebody else interprets that as "Let's go swimming", somebodies going to look awfully silly, coming out of the bathroom in a bathing suit.

~

Back to that person in college.  Essentially, with his authoritative and unfriendly tone, he either didn't understand what semantics were himself, or he was trying to confuse me, because he didn't have an answer to what I was trying to say.

And best response to the statement "You're arguing semantics.", is "You bet I am."

Saturday 5 December 2015

I am a leftist.

That's right.  I'm claiming that term.  Leftist.  There I said it.  I am a leftist.

I know that those on the right of the political spectrum, use the term leftist as an insult.  I'm not sure why they think it's such an insult, but they sure sling it around in internet comments.  Things like "oh you're such a leftist, tolerant of everything, but me."

Slinging insults, that don't make sense isn't going to make me change my mind.  It is going to make me think you're an idiot.  It's going to make me not like you very much.  It's not going to make me vote the way you want me to vote.

I was born into a political family.  I'm not going to provide a complete political genealogy, but my mother's parents were very active in one political party, and my father's parents were very active in another political party.  I'm related to more than one politician.  With a family like that, I had no choice but to learn about politics growing up.  Political discussions, disagreements and arguments filled family get-togethers.

I've been active in elections, worked for Elections Canada during elections, volunteered for campaigns, and generally have been well informed.

Although I'm a leftist, most media outlets are not leftists.  They are on the far right.  The globe and mail endorsed the conservatives, but not Harper.  The CBC started attacking Justin Trudeau as soon as he was elected.  Rosemary Barton was elated, and Peter Mansbridge told her not to be.  Trudeaumania hasn't been reported, but it is there.  Even other countries like our new Prime Minister.

I'm tired of one sided and slanted reporting, and I'm not going to rely on it anymore.  And you don't have to either.  I signed up for media and press releases directly from the Federal Government (note it's not the Harper Government anymore), and each week on Saturday, I will summarize all of the government news, right here on this blog, and you can read it without a far right biased.

If I don't see anything interesting in the press releases, I'll provide a political commentary.

Friday 4 December 2015

Comparing Apples and Oranges?

You can compare apples and oranges, and don't let any one tell you, you can't.

Apples are red, green or yellow.  Oranges are orange or green.

Apples may or may not be pealed before eating.  Oranges always need to be peeled before eating.

Apples have cores.  Oranges do not.

Apples can't be eaten with braces.  Oranges can be eaten with braces.

Apples are not naturally sections.  Oranges are naturally sectioned.

See.   I just compared apples and oranges, and I could go on if I wanted to.

When a person tells you "that's comparing apples and oranges", what they really mean is "shut up I don't want to hear that reasoning", and what they are really thinking is "darn, you've got a really good point that I can't answer, so I'm going to shut you down and direct the conversation in a direction that will make me seem superior."

Don't let somebody else do that.  If you want to say something.  Say it.  If you want to believe something believe it.  Don't let anybody else shut down your line of thinking or conversation.  You have a right, to believe think and say what you want to, even if it is comparing apples and oranges.

Because...

Apples don't have pulp.  Oranges do have pulp.

Thursday 3 December 2015

I want my $15 back.

A strange thing happened today.

I went to the grocery store, bought $45 worth of stuff, gave the clerk 3 twenties, and then....

The clerk put the money in the drawer and walked away.

No change.
No "Thank you for shopping at ______."
No nothing.

I stood there with my wallet open, and my grocery cart and stared, but he was gone.

I left the store, wondered the mall, picked up my groceries from parcel pick up, and then...

I didn't know.  $15.  I can absorb that, and I didn't want to make a big fuss.  The idea of forgiveness vrs getting even played over and over in my head.  I used to always try to forgive and turn the other cheek.

But I just didn't want to.  So I took my receipt, marked into the store, asked for the manager and told her what happened.  She said she'd do an audit of the till and phone me back.  I gave my name and phone number and left.

But still...

It's the weirdest thing.  I've never had that happen before.  I'm not sure what to think or feel about it.

Astonishment.  Anger.  Hurt.  Revenge.  Confusion.

And part of me is hoping he gets fired or reprimanded.

Another part of me thinks I'm never going to get that $15 back.  I gave her the receipt, and now I have no prove it happened.

The store will lose a lot more than $15 in the future, because I'm not ever going to shop there again, and a life time of groceries is a lot more than $15.  If that guy does it to other people, the store will start wondering why people aren't going there anymore.

Wednesday 2 December 2015

Please see me?

"Why can't I talk with you?"  My Dad asked.

The answer: because you don't allow me to disagree.  You talk until I do agree or leave the room, but you don't shut up until I say "Yes Dad your right."

I don't think that is my role in life - 100% total agreement with my father.

I am a person of my own, with my own thoughts and feelings and until he recognizes that, he won't truly know me.  I wish he did.  But he can't, because he can't see past his desire for adoration and total agreement.

Tuesday 1 December 2015

Sewer Snakes

Yes, I have learned to use a sewer snake.  It is not my favourite thing to do, and it wasn't fun learning how to do it.

But I do know, and right now the sewer is backed up again, and there is a small flood in our basement.  The washing machine, kiln, and deepfreeze are all in at least 3 inches of water.  The dryer is, fortunately out of harms way, along with an old dresser that's stored down there, and the garbage can.

Mom is going to call the plumber tomorrow.  Dad and I already spent an entire evening using the sewer snake last weekend.  And now, after only a week, it's backed up again.

The question is: can the deep freeze, kiln, and washer, remain in water over night, or should I go down and try to fix it.  Dad's out of town.  He's not even in the county.  And it will be just me, trying to use a sewer snake that took two of us to use last time.

And well....  I just talked myself out of it.  The freezer, dryer and kiln will just have to wait....

Until tomorrow.  When the plumber gets here, with an even bigger sewer snake.

Monday 30 November 2015

Bring Back Bitsie

No Bitsie is not a long lost friend.  She's not a treasured pet either.  She's Bitsie Tulloch who used to play Juliette on Grimm.

For those of you who don't know, Grimm is a TV show, produced by NBC.  It's premise is "what if fairy tales are true", and in it people called wessen have the powers that are often found in fairy tales. The Blutboden are wolfs - also known as the Big Bad Wolf in fairy tales, and Hexonbeists are witches.

Grimm has two witches: one is Adalind and the other is Juliette, played by Bitsie Tulloch.

In fairy tales there are good witches and bad witches.  Yes bad witches are more prevalent, but there are good witches who reverse spells and create good spells.

And this is what I want Juliette to be.  She wasn't always a witch, but because she was trying to help somebody else, she was made into a witch.  And she was the worst kind of witch there was.  She had powers that superseded every other witches powers.

And then she died.  She was killed by a bow and arrow.

Resulting in Bitsie Tulloch not being in season 5, and Adalind having some kind of weird sleeping and family arrangement with Juliette's old boyfriend.

But in fairy tales, witches can be good, and people can be brought back from the dead, and that is just what I want to happen to Juliette.  I want the writers of Grimm to bring Juliette back from the dead, and to become a good witch who is more powerful than all the bad witches of the land.

But that...  Well it just might be a fairytale.

Sunday 29 November 2015

Open letter to Jazz Jennings Mother

Jeanette Jennings:

   I've watched all of the episodes of season 1 in "I am Jazz", and I want you to know you are doing the right thing.

   I know that sometimes you feel that maybe you aren't.  You say that often in the show, but you are.

   I know you are, because you are teaching Jazz to be an advocate and an activist.  This is something she will need to know in the future, because all of her live people will tell her she "can't" because she's different.

  I know.  I'm different.  And I've had people question my right to do things because I'm different.  (No I'm not transgender or LGBT in any way).

   You are teaching her to stand up for herself, to stand up for other people, to make a difference in this world, and to be herself without apology.  These are all things she'll have to know once she grows up, and leaves the protective embrace of you and Greg.  She won't have to learn them on her own, because you are teaching them to her right now.

  Good job.

  You are doing the right thing.

Last Post Tonight

Ok.  So tonight I:


  1. researched blog platforms
  2. choose blogger
  3. set up my blog
  4. wrote my first post
  5. fixed problems
  6. wrote my last post tonight (this one right here)


I think that's enough for tonight.

I'm happy with my accomplishments, and look forward to continuing to blog.  I hope you like it, although really, I hope I like more.

See you next post.

Saturday 28 November 2015

First Post - second round

This is my very first post on my new blog.  As of now, I can't even remember my blogs name.  Strange huh.

Oh ya, it's Ink Spot 7.  It's been a long night, and Ink Spot 7 wasn't my first choice.  It wasn't even my 21st choice.  Oh well.  That's what it is, and that's what it wills stay.

I've been trying to create a blog for hours.  I watched youtube videos on the different blog platforms, watched videos that weren't anything about blogs (they kinda just popped up in the youtube suggestion list and looked interesting), started a blog on another blog platform and deleted it, and well after hours here I am.  And my blog is working.

Well I don't even know what it will look like on the first post.

Wish me luck.