Identity - Part 1

This is gonna be a 2 part post, so pull up pants (or take them off!) and put your reading glasses on. I've meant to write about this for a while, but just haven't felt like getting all the feeling down.


The past 2 weeks had two significant dates for my part of the world (not counting my birthday!): St-Jean and Canada Day.


Celebrated on June 24th, St-Jean is Quebec's big provincial holiday, where everything is mandatory closed and everyone (regardless of age) is found partying. The day is named for the patron saint of Quebec & French Canadians. No, I have no idea how someone can become a patron saint of a region or entire people...


6 days after Quebec's big holiday, on July 1st, is Canada. As you should be able to guess, it's Canada's big holiday that celebrates our breaking away from Britain to become our own independent country. People celebrate this holiday all across Canada, albeit a lot less in Quebec since a week before was St-Jean.

These two holidays rubbing up against another has always had a more personalized significance to me due to my political, cultural, provincial and national identity.

A quick review of Canada & Quebec history shows us that most of people in Quebec have not gotten along with the majority of people in Canada. Up towards the 1960s, the French-speaking majority of Quebec experienced heavy amounts of prejudice and were regarded as somewhat of a 2nd, lower class. Since the British and French showdown in the mid 18th century, that kicked France out of North America, the British & its English Canadian descendants always regarded French Canadians as people to be pushed out of jobs & higher employment, to be assimilated or just ignored. If visiting Montreal at the beginning of the 1960s, you wouldn't even realize that Quebec had ~5 million French speakers and only 400 000 English speakers, since French would never be heard in the downtown stores, business, hospitals, universities...

Fast-forwarding the 1960s to today, an influx of French Quebecers that championed the English language then overthrew the prejudice system from the inside to equalize and even raise French above English. Two new pro-Quebec separating from Canada parties would come into existence and rally their Quebecois French-speaking compatriots behind the banner of Quebec breaking away from Canada to become their own independent country.


A side effect of the newly-emerging, and justified, pro-French and pro-Quebec was the rise of anti-English and anti-Canada. The message of linguistic and cultural equality or independence became muddled with hate for English-speakers and English Canada (a.k.a. most of the rest of Canada). Necessary laws meant to protect the endangered French language in Quebec, such as Bill 101, would become over extended: hence was born the language police. Nope, they aren't nifty, swat gear-clad soldiers that beat people down if they speak poorly...although that would be pretty awesome (and horrible) to see. The extremist Front du Libération du Quebec (Quebec Liberation Front) would briefly appear in the late 60s and 70s, a violent separatist group responsible for robberies, riots, as well as the bombings of English-related institutions (Montreal stock exchange, English schools) and homes in predominantly English neighborhoods. The group's acts would culminate with the kidnap and execution of Quebec's Minister of Labor and a member of the British diplomat.

Two provincial referendums would also be held, asking the population the question of should Quebec separate from Canada. The first vote in 1980 showed a significant win for the No-to-separation vote. The second vote, when I was 9 years old in 1995, had us (and everyone else in the province) sitting around the TV waiting for the results. The No side barely won over the Yes-to-separation, by a 50.1% to 49.9% vote.

The last 40 years in the rise of French and Quebec has not gone without reaction by the other provinces of Canada. The anti-English and anti-Canadianism has been answered with anti-Quebecism and anti-French. A strong feeling has been that Quebec should just shut the fuck up and stop whining to be coddled for special status, which isn't a very wrong reality. Within Canada, Quebec is treated better and more equal than the others, to the point of an unfair advantage in spending resources and representation.

With a better idea of the history, my identity is quite a complicated one. These two big holidays celebrating Quebec and Canada do have an awkward stance against one-another Personally, it's very easy for me to feel sandwiched between two cultures, as part of both but belonging to neither according to the other members. Unfortunately, you will need to wait for the second post before I fill in this part.

Thoughts on my Birthday

My relationship to birthdays has always been an awkward and unusual one.

I love going out to make a big event out of someone's birthday, but when it comes to my own I am the exact opposite. Outwardly, I don't like to make a big thing of my birthday, but secretly I do.

There's never an urge to plan anything; no "Hey let's all go get shit faced to celebrate!". It actually has a lot to do with guilt and self-confidence: I don't like to tell people that it's my birthday because I don't want them to feel obliged to come out for it. I want them to call me up and say "let;s go drinking" from their own choice. On the other hand, I never feel obliged to go out and have a bash for someone's birthday, even if it's a big arranged celebration. It's hypocritical, and I know it, but I just don't want people to feel forced to show up. Along the same line of thinking, if the evening doesn't end up being lots of fun, I don't want to feel guilty for "forcing" them to have been present. I'm weird like that.

My process of thinking only harms myself - I know that. Typically, by the late hours of my birthday, I tend to feel down on myself. Common thoughts of "Man, this sucks...I didn't do anything for my birthday" float around my mind. As I replay those thoughts over and over again in my mind, they get twisted to "My friends don't care about me" or "I'm not worth it". It's actually really pathetic.

Yesterday's birthday was no different - I was at home all day and felt down on myself. I ended up really unhappy by midnight and kind of felt like crying, although I didn't. (You don't realize how much of a loser it feels to even admit that). I ended up

The feeling only lasts for that day. By the next morning I'm amped up to go out and have fun with friends. Today, on Canada Day (there'll be another post about this), I hung out with Liz, Mike and others. We celebrated my birthday, with inferior generic-cake, to which I was embarrassed but inwardly very happy. Uh, I'm so weird.

Birthdays

My family has one tradition that is extremely important, even sacred, to us: the birthday cake.

For every person's birthday, we need to serve the Jamocha Almond Fudge Ice Cream birthday cake, made by the local Baskin Robbins ice cream store. It has always been so, since my oldest brother was born, and as long as those types of cakes are available we will be eating that. We've never intentionally chosen to eat or serve any other type of cake.

People who are aware of our tradition have asked why does it need to be that cake? Clearly none of us need to answer them because they've never eaten the Jamocha Almond Fudge Ice Cream cake. You probably haven't either. Just understand: it is amazing.

A few years ago, the ice cream shops was out of cakes; so were the other stores on the island of Montreal. My middle brother understood that it wasn't any of our faults that we didn't get him the right cake, but we still didn't feel like it was the right type of birthday. As soon as the store had some new cakes in stock, we bought one, invited the whole family together and then re-celebrated his birthday anew.

We like to joke that we're the only reason that the ice cream store, Baskin Robbins, is still in business.

This is a very lose way of saying that it's a family members birthday:

Happy Birthday Thomas!

Smingus Dingus Day

My friend let me know about a wonderful (or horrible, depending on which role you play) day that she's been celebrating most of her life: Smingus Dingus Day.

Early in the morning on Smingus Dingus Day, according to the Polish tradition since my friend is indeed Polish, boys awake the girls they like by pouring a bucket of water on their heads and striking them with tree branches. No, I'm not kidding. Check Wikipedia if you'd like.

A more common, English name, for this holiday is Easter Monday. And so, this past Monday my friend decided to introduce her boyfriend (yup, role reversals since she's a girl) to her Polish heritage by waking him up with ice cold water and beatings. This is her boyfriend moments after being shocked out of his sleep. Maybe he's trying to dry off or maybe he's deciding if a back-hand is an inappropriate response - who knows.

I am making a mental note to add this to the repertoire of holidays/anniversaries/celebrations to which I partake.

YEY, 100!

YEY 100 POSTS in the WindsThatYouRise Blog

If anyone feels like shamelessly promoting my blog for me, please do.

[Yes, I realize my 100th post isn't a "real" post at all. Fuck you. :) ]

Poutinukkah

My friends and I celebrate a lesser-known holiday at this time of year. With the powerhouses of Christmas and New Years, it's all too easy to ignore this day. Many people might think I'm talking about Hanukkah, which is a common mistake. Although this holy day does owe its roots to the Jewish tradition, it's central meaning is derived from its blending with Québécois (a.k.a. Quebec - the greatest Canadian province ever) culture. This holiday I speak of is called Poutinukkah.


This great religious day owes its formation to the melting pot of traditional Jewish celebration and French-Canadian culinary delight, along with a dash of open-minded humour and alcohol. Poutinukkah is a day where friends come together, to light the traditional Poutinukkah menorah candles and celebrate the joys of life, while force-feeding themselves large amount of the holy poutine. An evening of revelry and good-times continues into the night, as friends make open bets upon what the future has in store for their friends. All is done in good/horrible taste.


In case you you are unfamiliar, poutine is a traditional Québécois dish, of french fried, gravy and cheese curds. Don't let this heart-attack-on-a-plate fool you: it is a gift from the French-speaking Poutinukkah Gods. While containing enough calories fit for 7 person, it emboddies the Québécois zest for indulgence and fun. Don't bash it till you try it.



Yesterday was no dissapointment to the Poutinukkah tradition. We had our token Jew say the Hebrew prayer, as the candles were lit and then we feasted. I had some good natured bets to declare. To make sure all statements are remembered, they must be written down and safely stored in the holy vessel, known as Future Dog. Once a year, on Poutinukkah, Future Dog can be reopened and the bets verified. But until that day, it remains in a safe location, away from those who might want to desecrate the holy relic.


Although this holiday has only existed for about 15 years, its regional celebration is sky-rocketing. I hope it will soon spread outside of Montreal and hopefully become a provincial holiday.

Look at those devout Poutinukkah followers - they are the pioneers.

Yey Christmas!

Christmas and the holidays are upon us!


I've always really enjoyed Christmas, for the presents, the food, the family (even them) and my parent's house's transformation. Since being little kids, we've always gone all-out for Christmas decorating. It looks like Mrs. Santa-herself exploded in the living room, leaving themed decorations behind. I'm also quite proud that among all the mini deers, Santas, stuffed-dolls, pictures and hang-ables, there is not a single Jesus included in the decorations.

Of course, today is Christmas Eve, which means Christmas is not here yet. Today's the traditional day where I hide the fuck away from my Mom because she always goes ape-shit crazy. In her mind, nothing is clean enough, none of the food will be prepared in time, no one is dressed appropriately for this evening's [annoying] guests. Regardless of how much we help out, she's always out to get us, although me in particular. I can dress the same as my brothers but I apparently always look like a bum. Oh well.


To make "Irritated-Mom" time pass faster, I've been watching the DVDs of Planet Earth on my laptop. I love this series because of natural landscapes and animals it shows. I don't think I've mentioned this before but I am big on animals and nature. 7 years of previous jobs center on working with animals and other living things, in different fields. Several times while watching the DVDs, I heard my heart break from cute overload. The narrator, David Attenborough, is perfect. I wish he was my British Grandfather (I never knew either of my Grandfathers) so that I could just listen to his voice forever.


A classic Christmas Day story for me happened about 4 or 5 years ago, when I used to work for a veterinarian hospital. I was the weekend & holiday guy, who came in on my own to feed and medicate [and play with] the animals, along with taking the dogs out for a walk. That year, I worked Christmas morning at 7am, so that I could get home before lunchtime for present-opening. Whilst taking one of those tiny, fluffy annoying/cute dogs for walk (I'm more a fan of the Lab or Husky), the leash broke and the dog decided to make his run for freedom. It became a game for him, since he saw I was running full speed after him, as he ran and swerved across all the streets and through random backyards.

After about 1.5 hours of me chasing, I lost the dog. So I walked back towards the vet hospital, freaking out about what I could possibly tell the owner when they would come to pick up little Fluffy. "I'm sorry sir/ma'am, but I lost your dog on Christmas and he's gone forever."
As I neared the door, I saw that the stupid dog decided to follow me back to the vet building, thinking our game was done. I unlocked the door, pushed it open wide and watched as the little dog just walked right in, as happy as can be. Well, I gave him the biggest kick ever - he deserved it. I am so thankful it happened on Christmas Day though, because any other day of the week the area would have been teeming with car traffic, so Fluffy would have definitely been turned into Smushy, when he was running across all the streets. On that particular morning, I actually saw only 1 car actually going somewhere.


To end this post, whether I know a bit about you, the reader, or whether you're just a "silent reader", I hope you have a good Christmas and/or holiday break. Live within your means and if you're on your own tomorrow then put in a good movie or two.

Here's a classic David Attenborough/Planet Earth moment for you: Click here, since YouTube won't let me embed the video.

1 Month of Blogging!

Today marks the 1 month anniversary of the WindsThatYouRise Blog!

Is it a real thing to celebrate? Fuck Ya!

The fact that I've managed to actually get a few readers makes me feel great. I like the idea of entertaining people, and I hope all of you have been enjoying reading these small recounts of my life. My intention is to keep writing, especially since I feel like I have so many things to write about.

Maybe I'm just weird (well ya, I'm nuts) but I get excited when thinking about things to write about. I even keep a little post-it, to remind me of few good topics/stories for future posts. At times, I can't even get my mind to quiet down for sleep because I get excited about a new idea or something I just remembered. I wonder if other bloggers get this same feeling? Maybe I'm still just the "honeymoon phase".

In terms of writing, I've never actually written for my own/others' entertainment. Some of my first posts lacked a bit of flow, but I feel that this blog has been a giant learning experience and a great success. For me, the whole writing process does take time: typically when I write, it takes me an hour to really put my thoughts and feeling into words. Then I either edit or just straight post the entry and come back to it later for editing. Pictures come after. Bad grammar, missing words and disjointed sentences are my curse.

At this point, I think I should go over a few things about my blog and the direction its heading:

- I much prefer putting up my own or my friends' pictures, instead of random photos from the internet. At the same time, I'd prefer to keep my friends and acquaintances as anonymous as myself. You can tell if the picture belongs to me/my friends because the people will have their eyes or part of their face covered. If you see a person's eyes on my blog, it's because I stole that image from the internet.

- Like above, most non-people photos that I post are also usually taken by a friend or myself. I think the irrational fetish post is the only entry that features mostly images I stole from the internet...just because it's awkward taking pictures of peoples' ankles or heads without them being bothered. Rule of thumb: if the photo looks slightly bad quality and that it wasn't made in some fancy studio, then it's probably mine.

- Pictures featuring my own face have only occurred once, in my random hand-puppet post. Nope, you can't tell much about me...other than I'm white and male.

- There will be more photos of myself shown, in particular one of me without my shirt on. No, I'm not just doing that because I'm narcissistic/fishing-for-compliments and want strangers from the internet to fawn over me (ok, maybe a bit...). The reason is that it's actually very relevant for the story of the stalker who followed me around/out of the university pool. Oh, I bet you can't wait to hear that one ;)

- 97% of what I say is true. My friends' names are changed, for the anonymity factor. My name is real, although different friends call me different names. If I say I did something yesterday, in reality I might have actually done that 3 days ago. All things I've written about did actually occur in my life. Horrible, wonderful and real.

- Some of you seem to have AIM and have given me your IDs or offered to add me. Sorry, but I don't have AIM right now. I'm considering getting it to interact with whoever wants to speak to me, but I'm not sure yet. Some of you I would definitely love to "talk" to in real time. I just need to decide if I would actually have the time to log on and speak to you meaningfully. I'm not gonna lie either, I'm kind of shy about directly talking with people who read my blog. I'll let you guys know what I decide.

- The posts will become more interactive. Up to now, you have all been mostly reading stories of myself, as I get you up-to-speed about me. As the events get more recent, it will be less "this is what happened" and more "this is the situation and I'm not sure what to do".

As my final note: I love responses. I love comments. I love emails. I love sharing. I love it when someone has an idea for my blog or posts. I love positive and negative feedback. I love you when you reach out to interact with me.

Thomas's Email: windsthatyourise@gmail.com