Thankfully, I caught the ghost bus this morning. The Viva, which is Toronto/GTA's pseudo-european answer to express bus service in an area only recently cultivated for the housing boom but was previously acres of desolate farmland, is usually jam packed in the morning, especially by the time it gets to Woodbine & Hwy 7.
The ghost bus was characteristically quiet this morning. Not too many occupants, and empty seats. I stretched my legs at leisure and piled the adjacent seats with my so-heavy-could-be-carrying-a-corpse backpack. So there I sat, with bright, sharp morning sunlight streaming in and hiding the fugitive wind of a cold March morning, blaring my John Mayer.
Whether or not you mean to, it's always fun to listen to people's conversations, and hard to miss if they're talking particularly loud. There were two guys talking about...anything and everything. Aah, just my type of conversation (no sarcasm intended). I paid no attention - they were talking about the Bible & hypocrisy (man, is that a tired topic) - but then the words "Loan payback" drifted to my seat and tapped me persuasively on my shoulder. And so the volum on my ipod dropped to a hum.
I didn't care much for the particulars: the amount of his loan or anything like that. These guys were talking about being students and their plans for LIFE. It's been plaguing my own mind for a long while now so I decided to learn what I could.
They were just as green as me, of course, not really veterans in being homeless/penniless students but...their approach was different. Their outlook was what I like to adopt and stick to on good days and that I hopelessly drop and succumb to fear on bad days. Naturally, for me, there are more bad days than good; funny how that works. They figured, whatever happens, happens.
So this was the gist of the conversation:
Boy 1: ....and I've got my OSAP loan and line of credit. I figure I can at least pay off my line of credit
Boy 2: How much is your line of credit?
Boy 1: Oh...like 18, 20K? Yeah, it's not too bad...it's a mountain but it's a doable mountain, you know? Like I could work for a year straight and just pay that shit off so it's not too bad. Like, right now I make all the minimum payments...and there was a point in time where I'd make like a full payment....yeah, me and my parents were really good at that time. We'd talk and all, our relationship got better and I kept paying the full amount for like six, seven months straight. But then...man, I don't even know what happened but I stopped paying full...and I even missed a payment. So my dad got really pissed. Whatever man.
Boy 2: Hah. Shit. So what do you think?
Boy 1: Seriously, man, I don't care. My parents are all like, what the hell are you going to do with your life, you're not getting an actual degree of use, you're going to be homeless and live in a hole. And I'm like, what the hell? How do other people live? Like, there are so many kdis with Arts degrees and they're actually doing stuff with their lives, you know? They figure things out, I will too.
Boy 2: Mhmm...
Boy 1: Like, they work, pay, go to school. They travel. Okay, there's this guy I know. He's in university and this summer he's going to BC 'cuz he's writing this book. Artists and Life Art or something like that. And he's doing this project, you know? And he's like, if I'd come out and help him with research and editing, he'd pay for my flight ticket. Crazy, right? But here he is, doing something with his life. Stuff like that.
Boy 2: For sure man. Like people just get caught up in work and jobs and whatever.
Boy 1: Exactly. There's this girl I know. All she does is work for a year, saves up as much as can. Puts half toward her tuition and then save the rest for traveling. That's all she does: works and travels. And then the next year she goes to school. Like that's amazing you know? She fucking knows how to live her life.
Boy 2: Are you serious? She just...travels?
Boy 1: Yeah man, she takes like 3 or 4 jobs through the year and earns all she can. It's crazy. And so awesome. But you know what, that's the way to be! Like, I'm not worried about stuff. There's no rush for me, and people figure things out, you know? Just because you're an Arts grad, doesn't mean you're going to be broke. It annoys me when people think that way or say that to you.
-----------------------------------------------------
I found this to be...not quite an eye-opener, because I've met and talked to people like this before. But to have this to consider in the morning, when I've been thinking about this all along...to have it come from strangers was...thought-inducing.
Because it's something that is hard for me to grasp or fully apply to my own life. I'm torn between being an idealist and just being...practical. And the biggest struggle for me right now is, yes, the money, yes what the hell am I going to do in the future, but also, when the hell is it going to finally happen. There's honour...doing the right thing at the right time, finishing a degree in four years getting a job, making some money to pay back those loans. And then there's freedom where someone like the aforementioned girl works and lives her gawdamn life!
I don't know the answers to anything yet, and my head was swimming, hearing this. It wasn't a new sentiment. It's been expressed before. But in trying to apply it to my own life, I'm held back by fear. Great and immense, bottomless fear that doesn't usually tinge my behaviour or my thoughts.
A very big part of me is still stuck in that room in Waterloo, worrying about honour and freedom and the cost of pursuing your dreams and the tradeoffs, the sacrifices, the depression, the idealism, the follow-through and the potential for failure. A big part of me is still that timid girl crying over the phone, is still battling with my father, is still lacking coherency and stability. Is still missing in action in a very big way.
And as though my ipod could read my mind (and I swear it does this often), their conversation prophetically ended to the beginning of Dave Brubeck's Take Five. Life is so uncannily stylish, sometimes, it's scary. Take Five indeed.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Occupational Hazard.
It is really very annoying when you hit that age - that really annoying age where people can't tell how old you are. At least...that's what has always happened with me. People can never tell how old I am - either i'm 12 or i'm 21. It's very strange, not to mention, extremely bloody annoying.
I'm wary of walking down the street with my parents. I now refuse to walk down the street (or anywhere for that matter) with my father, alone, if my mother is not there. Because - YES, this actually happens - people think I'm his wife. And that has such icky connotations, I can't even begin to unpack it, besides not wanting to unpack it. My mother and I look alot alike - and so people think "hmm, they are sisters". And this is really fucking annoying. Because, yes, my mother looks young....but she does not look THAT young. so either I look old and tired or she looks sparkling and young...which, no offense mom, you don't.
This is the occupational hazard of having parents that are far too young to be your parents. It's very annoying; either you're the wife or the dumpy sister and I want to scream at people's extreme stupidities for generalizing and thinking one way or the other. Having young parents is solely embarassing and, even though they can get you underage drinks, and you could potentially party with them doesn't mean you WANT to.
It was absolutely mortifying, for example, when my father would come to pick me up in his rare occasions of fatherly duty from my high school. And there would be a group of afghan girls that would stare and giggle as he passed. It was really quite nauseating, the way they would look back and pointedly stare him down, as if baiting him. It made me gag, not only at the process of the main human mating ritual (because this stare was not only reserved for him - it was pretty much there for any male in the school, the attitude being, look, drool and don't touch; affirmation basically, ugh, sickening) but because my father was the object of it.
My parents got married young - 21 (well...it's young in my books) and had a kid the very next year. So basically they were kids having a kid (and I turned out really messed up and neurotic for it). While all the other parents are now 50 or approaching such, my parents are approaching 41 or 45.
The curse (or blessing) of the genes in our family makes it so that all the women (on my mother's side) are slight and...lineless for the most part. My grandmother is 65 but looks like she is 50. It's really quite disconcerting. My mother, similarly, is 43...but pretty much looks like she is 32. But, no, I will NOT concede to the fact that she looks my age (and I, by default thus look her age) because that is a first-glance exaggeration.
The non-aging thing got passed on to me. Generally, women who are shorter and slighter look younger anyway, but at least my mother looks mature. I am on the short side, with a slight build and - I have glasses. Shit. I...look like a woman-child, which is very annoying. When I dress up, however, I look like I'm ready to bust a move because I'm naturally curvaceous yet my face is young. It is very, very annoying. I am a woman child and that makes me sad. It also gives me no hope for the future because I will forever look young (kiddy young), and not tall and amazing like that KT Tunstall song.
And its not just getting carded - who cares about that crap. It's the fact that, when I was in grade 7 and I wore dorky butterfly clips, this really big boobed fast assed blonde is like omg are you in grade 3? even though our classes were RIGHT next to each other and i was a chatterbox so she knew who i was. Dumb cow.
I really just wish people would stop generalizing, however, and use their brains. My friend, Katharine has a fifteen year difference with her little brother - me, i'm not so bad, its only a 10 year difference with my younger brother. Yet, whenever she was out for a walk with him, or pushing his stroller, people would shoot her dirty looks. They all automatically assumed: teenage pregnancy.
You know what? Fuck you. Pardon my french. But wow, can you not take TWO seconds to UN-generalize and UN-assume about people? Is that so hard? To look at people and NOT cast a judgement on what infitesimal detail you THINK you've discerned? Upon close inspection, me and mother not only look differentiable, but it is clear who is the mother and who is the daughter. But people always fucking generalize: "Oh my god, you two are sisters!" And it's not just flattery; people with no motives, nothing behind their words other than what they think is keen observation, will say this. And it gets me angry. Not because this means either that she's impossibly young or that I'm glaringly old. But because, people are constantly generalizing. About everything: culture, hair, race, clothes, what have you.
And quite frankly, it's disheartening.
So next time you see a really old guy with a really young chick. Don't pass judgement. Don't try to figure out their relationship - it doesn't concern you! Marvel at them individually, if there is anything to marvel at and make rational statements. And to all afghan girls at Marc Garneau, my father is not on the market. So piss off.
Cheers.
I'm wary of walking down the street with my parents. I now refuse to walk down the street (or anywhere for that matter) with my father, alone, if my mother is not there. Because - YES, this actually happens - people think I'm his wife. And that has such icky connotations, I can't even begin to unpack it, besides not wanting to unpack it. My mother and I look alot alike - and so people think "hmm, they are sisters". And this is really fucking annoying. Because, yes, my mother looks young....but she does not look THAT young. so either I look old and tired or she looks sparkling and young...which, no offense mom, you don't.
This is the occupational hazard of having parents that are far too young to be your parents. It's very annoying; either you're the wife or the dumpy sister and I want to scream at people's extreme stupidities for generalizing and thinking one way or the other. Having young parents is solely embarassing and, even though they can get you underage drinks, and you could potentially party with them doesn't mean you WANT to.
It was absolutely mortifying, for example, when my father would come to pick me up in his rare occasions of fatherly duty from my high school. And there would be a group of afghan girls that would stare and giggle as he passed. It was really quite nauseating, the way they would look back and pointedly stare him down, as if baiting him. It made me gag, not only at the process of the main human mating ritual (because this stare was not only reserved for him - it was pretty much there for any male in the school, the attitude being, look, drool and don't touch; affirmation basically, ugh, sickening) but because my father was the object of it.
My parents got married young - 21 (well...it's young in my books) and had a kid the very next year. So basically they were kids having a kid (and I turned out really messed up and neurotic for it). While all the other parents are now 50 or approaching such, my parents are approaching 41 or 45.
The curse (or blessing) of the genes in our family makes it so that all the women (on my mother's side) are slight and...lineless for the most part. My grandmother is 65 but looks like she is 50. It's really quite disconcerting. My mother, similarly, is 43...but pretty much looks like she is 32. But, no, I will NOT concede to the fact that she looks my age (and I, by default thus look her age) because that is a first-glance exaggeration.
The non-aging thing got passed on to me. Generally, women who are shorter and slighter look younger anyway, but at least my mother looks mature. I am on the short side, with a slight build and - I have glasses. Shit. I...look like a woman-child, which is very annoying. When I dress up, however, I look like I'm ready to bust a move because I'm naturally curvaceous yet my face is young. It is very, very annoying. I am a woman child and that makes me sad. It also gives me no hope for the future because I will forever look young (kiddy young), and not tall and amazing like that KT Tunstall song.
And its not just getting carded - who cares about that crap. It's the fact that, when I was in grade 7 and I wore dorky butterfly clips, this really big boobed fast assed blonde is like omg are you in grade 3? even though our classes were RIGHT next to each other and i was a chatterbox so she knew who i was. Dumb cow.
I really just wish people would stop generalizing, however, and use their brains. My friend, Katharine has a fifteen year difference with her little brother - me, i'm not so bad, its only a 10 year difference with my younger brother. Yet, whenever she was out for a walk with him, or pushing his stroller, people would shoot her dirty looks. They all automatically assumed: teenage pregnancy.
You know what? Fuck you. Pardon my french. But wow, can you not take TWO seconds to UN-generalize and UN-assume about people? Is that so hard? To look at people and NOT cast a judgement on what infitesimal detail you THINK you've discerned? Upon close inspection, me and mother not only look differentiable, but it is clear who is the mother and who is the daughter. But people always fucking generalize: "Oh my god, you two are sisters!" And it's not just flattery; people with no motives, nothing behind their words other than what they think is keen observation, will say this. And it gets me angry. Not because this means either that she's impossibly young or that I'm glaringly old. But because, people are constantly generalizing. About everything: culture, hair, race, clothes, what have you.
And quite frankly, it's disheartening.
So next time you see a really old guy with a really young chick. Don't pass judgement. Don't try to figure out their relationship - it doesn't concern you! Marvel at them individually, if there is anything to marvel at and make rational statements. And to all afghan girls at Marc Garneau, my father is not on the market. So piss off.
Cheers.
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