Hockey Night in Canada

Hockey is the sport of Canadians. Has been for years. It brings friends together and puts them at odds for a few hours when they’re cheering for opposing teams. It’s healthy competition. There are commercials showing the unity of hockey fans, and indulging in hockey and beer is basically a Canadian rite of passage.

Which is why, when I see an article in the Toronto Star about the Punjabi community being up in arms because the CBC – the CANADIAN Broadcasting Company – has ceased the production of a Punjabi broadcast of Hockey Night in Canada, my stomach rolls and I can feel anger rising in my chest.

The Star article states that the “move has South Asians across the country up in arms.” Are we in South Asia now? No? Then why the fuck should hockey – hockey! Of all things – be broadcast on a Canadian network in Punjabi?

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t actually have a problem with landed immigrants that contribute to Canadian society, and I’m honoured that they see Canada as a safe place away from the turmoil that plagues so many other countries. I know I’m very lucky to have been born here. However, I do expect that when people immigrate to my country, they learn English – I don’t care that Punjabi is “the fourth most-spoken non-official language in Canada after Chinese languages, Italian and German” – because it’s our NATIONAL language. And you’re in our nation. They’re lucky to be in a country that lets them voice their opinion, because if I were to go to THEIR country and try to enforce my beliefs on them, I would be punished. Celebrate your culture on your own, and speak your own language among your fellow people if you must. But in my country, you speak my country’s language.

Canada is so careful not to step on the toes of new immigrants that we’re losing any sense of culture that we once had. The broadcasters of this show claim that it “‘has made the community feel more Canadian,’ and helped new immigrants connect with the culture.” And it’s in Punjabi. Does no one else see what’s wrong about this? Hockey is Canadian and part of our culture, yes, but if you want to “connect” with our culture, speak our God damn language. That’s all I’m saying.

Well, right now. I could say much more. But that would be getting too far off topic.

In other news, one of my clients used cheesy pick-up lines on me. Being my client, I obviously brush them off. But I would actually implore more guys to use that type of pick-up lines in a funny yet endearing way. It’s actually rather sweet.

Or maybe that’s just me…

Love,

Bella

My Life...This Week, Anyway

Ghosts, Goblins, and Ghouls

Fearfest at Wonderland is always exciting (I guess – this is the first year I’ve been there, but it was pretty exciting). I’m not one who’s usually good with being scared – I can’t even watch scary movies without a pillow in front of my face and hyperventilating – so I’m not sure why I thought Fearfest would be a good idea for me. In any case, my friends and I ventured to this place of horror a couple of weeks ago for some good natured terrorizing.

Now, I know this stuff is fake. I know it’s all makeup on the people and that the stage of the theatre is not actually a haunted swamp. But I seemed to forget all that when I was in the dark recesses of the bayou and creepy creatures were jumping out at me. My poor buddy was so often clawed, yanked, and thrown into the people that jumped out that he was more scared of me than anything else. Apparently my survival instinct is to throw my friends in front of danger to save myself. So I learned something new about myself that night. But you try being calm when those buggers chase you out of the house. You’re never safe.

When I went back the next weekend with Rio, I was still terrified, though I didn’t push him into anything so much as I just smacked him whenever something scared me. So, basically, I’ll give up my friends for my own safety or just hit them in sheer terror. They are so lucky to be friends with me.

Rio was also delighted to have been the blatant object of affection for about 4 different girls, a fact that he took great pleasure in pointing out and also pondering aloud, “Why aren’t you being checked out by anyone?” Well I don’t know, bud, why don’t you ask someone for me? I think his favourite moment was catching a vampire chick off guard and speaking in an English accent to a ghoul (he’s special). I, however, was not up to par with his awesomeness that night, which he was not shy about stating when he told me that I needed “to get up to his level.” I may have smacked him a little harder the next time something “scared” me.

Work Isn’t Meant to Be This Fun

(This picture has nothing to do with the post below and everything to do with the fact that Alcide is damn sexy).

It’s no secret that I love the people I work with. They’re hilarious, sweet, and just overall really awesome. Today, for example, one patient screamed when she saw it was me saying hi to her, and then hugged me. Like, seriously? How does that not change someone’s day from bad to good? (While also scaring me a little, because I really wasn’t expecting her to actually scream). Another patient and I bonded at the fact that we both used to frequent an infamous bar in town - her 21 years ago, and me only about a year ago. How cool is that??

I’ve been feeling pretty blah the past few days – probably down to the weather – and whenever I go onto the units and talk to my clients, more often than not I leave feeling revitalized. That’s not to say that I don’t ever feel drained from having more challenging conversations, but even those situations make me realize how much I have to learn and how much they can teach me. Because really, as much as I’m here to help them in their recovery, they help me and teach me more than I could ever do for them.

I’m not sure where I was going with this. I still don’t. Basically, I love them. But would I try to protect them if zombies were trying to attack me? Probably not. Every person for themselves in that situation, friends.

Love,

Bella

People I Love...and Those I Don't

This picture has nothing to do with the post. I just really want to go to Arizona.

Client Interaction

Working with my clients is honestly the best job that I could ask for right now. I get paid to hang out with them.

Obviously, I can’t share too much information about my work or my clients, but I can’t NOT share the little tidbits from them that make my day – at the expense of myself.

“I like your earrings – your watch is really tacky, though.”

Client: “So, when you were depressed, was it because you didn’t have a boyfriend?”
Me: “What? No!”

Me: “You’re a really good artist.”
Client: “That makes me want to take you to my room and show you all my other pictures.”

Me: “I like your picture.”
Client: “Thanks. Wanna buy it?”
Me: “Um. No.”
Client: “Then why are you standing here wasting my time? Move along.”

Client: “Are you poisoning that again, Shelley?” (I was making her some hot chocolate).
Me: “I’m not Shelley.” (I have no idea why my first response was to correct the name and not discount her belief that I was trying to kill her).
Client: “I know who you are, Chris.”
Me: “I’m not Chris!”
Client: “I don’t give a shit who you people are, to be honest. You’re shit under my feet and I should piss on your grave for murdering my father.”
Me: “…do you still want your hot chocolate?”

Client: “I hear they’re sending you to maximum security.”
Me: “To work?”
Client: “No, as a patient.”
Me: “What?! Who have you been talking to?!”

Client: “Your hair is much better when it’s straight.”
Me: “Did it look that bad the other day?”
Client: “No, but…it looks way better now.”

Kickboxing

My mom and I decided to buy a Wagjag offer for kickboxing. Tonight was our first night. We got there when a children’s karate class was going on, and there were kids everywhere. For someone who is just now warming up to the idea of having a kid of my own (in the future! Not now. Jesus, not right now), all the little children were a tad overwhelming. Which showed when I exclaimed “my God, they’re everywhere!” Oops.

Anyway, this ladies kickboxing was full of young, tired mothers (I have no idea if they actually were; I’m just making an uninformed assumption) wearing pink shirts and pink gloves (PINK. At a fucking martial arts centre). Their stances were terrible and they hit the bag like they were afraid of breaking a nail. Look, I’m all about femininity (if you ask my friend Rio, I’m only a little bit manly – thanks buddy), but when we’re supposed to be boxing, it’s not the time. Add to the fact that the owner is a really annoying chick who needs some serious dental work and a personality overhaul, and my Mom and I were rolling our eyes and scoffing at people the entire time. It’s hard to be so perfect, but we manage.

I was standing there rolling my eyes when some guy walked into the centre. With eyes that were, seriously, icy blue. I looked at him, breathed “whoa”, and quickly hiked down my shirt. Fairly certain he was the husband of the annoying chick, so all the more reason to seduce him. Right?

Love,

Bella

I'm Back!

I didn't realize that I hadn't been online (online here, anyway) for almost 2 months. To all my fans out there, I'm so very sorry. I know how empty your lives must have been without my witty insight and intellectual conversation, and I just feel terrible that I've been the cause of that unrest.

My lack of writing hasn't been a result of a lack of anything interesting happening in my life - quite the opposite, really. I've actually been living in the real world and haven't had the chance to sit down and write anything that would be worth reading. I'm very much of the mindset that I will only write things that are funny (however subjective that might be) and insightful, and I know I wouldn't have been able to provide that. There have been many things that I've failed to mention over the summer, so I'll try to rectify that now. I just can't promise this is going to be at my usual level of hilarity - but there's plenty of that to come in the next few days.

I never mentioned anything here about my trip to England and Scotland with my mom, which was one of the most fun trips I've taken. We drank at pubs every night, were admonished for taking pictures of ourselves in fascinators in department stores, and ate ready made sandwiches at midnight in a grocery store. We slept until noon after a big breakfast and watched sleazy British talk shows. We met lots of Brits and became the most popular people in almost every pub we attended (okay, two. Small ones. But still!) But the best part was spending time with my beautiful Momma.

I got a new job at the psychiatric hospital where I'd been volunteering. I get paid to hang out with my patients and implement programs and activities for them. How cool is that? I've already had my watch been called tacky by a patient, saw one of my patients walking around with her purse strap around her head, and am only referred to as "hot chocolate" by another. The latter could be taken as quite flattering if I was actually black and not known for giving all the patients hot chocolate on Sundays. But whatever.

Hm. I really thought there was more going on than that. I guess not. I've just been really busy with making the change in jobs and attending conferences and meetings (I love saying that - makes me feel so important). I won't take so long to write again, and I promise my next post will be much better thought out and much funnier. You are welcome.

Love,

Bella