Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Quick! before you're Thirty!!
Standing at my friend, Cristina,'s funeral the other day. I heard a woman behind me whisper " She lived fuller life than most 50 year olds" as pictures of Cristina's musical career, OMNI 1 interviews, life growing up in Portugal, skater life in toronto and her feature in the Ryerson art gallery last April flickered on the projector screen. I find it interesting. To look into another person's life is so easy. You can see their accomplishments. You can have faith that they will make something of themselves.
Cristina would have. I believe that moreover because I know she already had. She died at the age of 23.
So now I am sitting here, with a pile of applications for masters programs, post grad diplomas, paramedical college and seasonal guiding jobs on my bed, in my parents home in Toronto, Ontario. Also 23, I am feeling the pressure of a ticking clock on my mind. I have been conditioned to believe that it runs out when I hit 30 years old. When this generation hits thirty, there is an unwritten expectation that you will have completed the path to success, have a lover whom you have married, have a steady job and be generally settled into a mundane existence. This is the socially accepted path our families and friends expect and hope that we take.
Now, this is very different from our parents generation. Those baby boomers were a productive crew. They married in the early 20s, moved out of our grandparents homes, they built their empires and worked hard. Now they are smiling at their investments and planning their retirement ventures. I am starting to get the vague feeling that many folks in our generation are on the outside, looking in at a lifestyle that we will never know and I'm not even sure that we are aware of it.
Marriage later in life now means to most that life must be lived prior to marriage. Marriage tends to become a priority on the 364th day of your 29th year.
Suddenly, with only 7 years to go and another lap around the calendar before I can apply to any masters programs ( thanks to recent roadtrips and adventures), I am stressing out over what I want to be when I grow up. I mean honestly, they started asking us in the pre-teens to plan our careers, shouldn't I know by now? I have been taught by my parents that I should follow my heart, but with the daunting task of nurturing our planet at my fingertips I am completely lost.
I am not alone in this boat. I know it because of Facebook status updates mostly.
I think everyone is anxious at this stage. They are looking to climb the ladder of success but unsure of which ladder they will be climbing. What BA/BSC meant 20 years ago is what MA means now, also meaning two more years ( at least) of school are necessary to achieve it. Because of our parents choices and the explosion of globalization our options really are infinite. Even if we know we need the masters under our belt it is sometimes very hard to understand or accept where our minds will be as the product of the school we choose. I know this because every time I open a google search, I end up with a new ' even better!' plan for internships, masters programs and neat jobs. This often leads to me lifting my foggy eyes to a clock and wondering how it could possibly be 3am already.
So maybe our problem lies in our generations expectations, many of us were not driven at age 16 to become doctors or lawyers ( then again I remember a few who were...). And maybe 30 really isn't the end of the world as we know it. I mean, I understand the 27 thing if you are a rockstar...if you make it to 28 you really have accomplished something. But for the rest of us, I think we need to remember all our yoga classes and buddhist teaches. Stop planning the future, be responsible for yourself and live in the now.
Cristina Taborda's funeral was beautiful and mournful, of the potential that this girl had. But potential means different things to different people and Cristina did live her life to its full potential. If we open our eyes we can see that there should never be a time limit for what you can accomplish and that race to a successful thirty is just an illusion created to induce depression and scare us into careers. You should not be finished learning, and you should not be settled, not until you too close your eyes.
"Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your
life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year
olds I know still don’t." - Baz Luhrman, the sunscreen song. (http://www.lyricscrawler.com/song/3953.html)
Hm... I remember loving this song but I hear the words again and wonder why it is that I keep forgetting them.
Anyways... it is 12:30pm on December 28th 2010. I am tired of looking for a future, so I am going to take a deep breathe and live in the now.
PS: big screen TV, mansion, a husband, 2 cars in the driveway and cool touch screen phones are not necessities. You know better. Do not forget what you want to work towards. But please please please Lauren! put some blinders on and accomplish something!!!
Cristina would have. I believe that moreover because I know she already had. She died at the age of 23.
So now I am sitting here, with a pile of applications for masters programs, post grad diplomas, paramedical college and seasonal guiding jobs on my bed, in my parents home in Toronto, Ontario. Also 23, I am feeling the pressure of a ticking clock on my mind. I have been conditioned to believe that it runs out when I hit 30 years old. When this generation hits thirty, there is an unwritten expectation that you will have completed the path to success, have a lover whom you have married, have a steady job and be generally settled into a mundane existence. This is the socially accepted path our families and friends expect and hope that we take.
Now, this is very different from our parents generation. Those baby boomers were a productive crew. They married in the early 20s, moved out of our grandparents homes, they built their empires and worked hard. Now they are smiling at their investments and planning their retirement ventures. I am starting to get the vague feeling that many folks in our generation are on the outside, looking in at a lifestyle that we will never know and I'm not even sure that we are aware of it.
Marriage later in life now means to most that life must be lived prior to marriage. Marriage tends to become a priority on the 364th day of your 29th year.
Suddenly, with only 7 years to go and another lap around the calendar before I can apply to any masters programs ( thanks to recent roadtrips and adventures), I am stressing out over what I want to be when I grow up. I mean honestly, they started asking us in the pre-teens to plan our careers, shouldn't I know by now? I have been taught by my parents that I should follow my heart, but with the daunting task of nurturing our planet at my fingertips I am completely lost.
I am not alone in this boat. I know it because of Facebook status updates mostly.
I think everyone is anxious at this stage. They are looking to climb the ladder of success but unsure of which ladder they will be climbing. What BA/BSC meant 20 years ago is what MA means now, also meaning two more years ( at least) of school are necessary to achieve it. Because of our parents choices and the explosion of globalization our options really are infinite. Even if we know we need the masters under our belt it is sometimes very hard to understand or accept where our minds will be as the product of the school we choose. I know this because every time I open a google search, I end up with a new ' even better!' plan for internships, masters programs and neat jobs. This often leads to me lifting my foggy eyes to a clock and wondering how it could possibly be 3am already.
So maybe our problem lies in our generations expectations, many of us were not driven at age 16 to become doctors or lawyers ( then again I remember a few who were...). And maybe 30 really isn't the end of the world as we know it. I mean, I understand the 27 thing if you are a rockstar...if you make it to 28 you really have accomplished something. But for the rest of us, I think we need to remember all our yoga classes and buddhist teaches. Stop planning the future, be responsible for yourself and live in the now.
Cristina Taborda's funeral was beautiful and mournful, of the potential that this girl had. But potential means different things to different people and Cristina did live her life to its full potential. If we open our eyes we can see that there should never be a time limit for what you can accomplish and that race to a successful thirty is just an illusion created to induce depression and scare us into careers. You should not be finished learning, and you should not be settled, not until you too close your eyes.
"Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your
life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year
olds I know still don’t." - Baz Luhrman, the sunscreen song. (http://www.lyricscrawler.com/song/3953.html)
Hm... I remember loving this song but I hear the words again and wonder why it is that I keep forgetting them.
Anyways... it is 12:30pm on December 28th 2010. I am tired of looking for a future, so I am going to take a deep breathe and live in the now.
PS: big screen TV, mansion, a husband, 2 cars in the driveway and cool touch screen phones are not necessities. You know better. Do not forget what you want to work towards. But please please please Lauren! put some blinders on and accomplish something!!!
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Christmas 2010.
The car pulled up to the house and before the engine was off the four of us, the four Watson children, were standing at attention by the passenger door. Gran had already opened the door and was pushing through excruciating pain to try and stand. Tim and Mike were the first to grab her arms and support her.
Gran, 85 year old Gran, does not take kindly to help. Throughout the evening I felt like I really understand where she was coming from. I remember my own depression this summer when I broke my foot. How much I hated the idea of being cared for and carried and supported. Grans situation is that... to the Nth degree.
A woman, who has cared for her husbands throughout his slow death, who has helped Mother Teresa change the world, who has always given herself to those around... looks around at us and ,with embarrassment, concedes " this is ridiculous".
She suffers from chronic arthritis and back pain, she has a horrible shake in her hand which prevents her from painting and writing, she cannot stand on her own at the moment and cringes every time her upper body twists and she laughs when she tells us she is in denial of her age. Last week she was working with a physiotherapist and ended up pulling muscles in her back. Muscles which still have not healed.
Still living on her own in a retirement home, Gran tries desperately to fend for herself. She makes meals and attends parties with her other retired friends. My mother, her daughter, still cannot bring herself to ask Gran if she needs an assistant. Gran would never have it.
We eat Christmas dinner in the living room this year so as to limit Gran's walking. My mother brings her a plate, which she accepts sheepishly. She smiles and jokes with us, laughing about our horrible singing while Mike plays Christmas carols on the piano.
The end of the night somewhat resembles an Egyptian parade, with gran as the princess in a wheelchair and us carrying her down the steps to the car. Through our joking and laughing there is a somber tone... you can tell she hates the honor.
I held her hand before while she was waiting in the car to leave and I kissed her soft cheek. I realized how much I have taken for granted being so close with such an amazing human being. The mortality, hers and my own, of our time together became a reality and not just a distant relative I hear about through my mother's relayed messages.
Christmas is not about presents, we know that though. It is about family, something many people do not get the privilege of. And I think it is a gentle reminder to all of us that we need to take care of each other, especially those who have taken such nurturing care of us. I will probably benefit the most from these words, but I do want to wish anyone reading this a very merry holiday. Enjoy the chance to really give yourself.
Love,
Lauren
Gran, 85 year old Gran, does not take kindly to help. Throughout the evening I felt like I really understand where she was coming from. I remember my own depression this summer when I broke my foot. How much I hated the idea of being cared for and carried and supported. Grans situation is that... to the Nth degree.
A woman, who has cared for her husbands throughout his slow death, who has helped Mother Teresa change the world, who has always given herself to those around... looks around at us and ,with embarrassment, concedes " this is ridiculous".
She suffers from chronic arthritis and back pain, she has a horrible shake in her hand which prevents her from painting and writing, she cannot stand on her own at the moment and cringes every time her upper body twists and she laughs when she tells us she is in denial of her age. Last week she was working with a physiotherapist and ended up pulling muscles in her back. Muscles which still have not healed.
Still living on her own in a retirement home, Gran tries desperately to fend for herself. She makes meals and attends parties with her other retired friends. My mother, her daughter, still cannot bring herself to ask Gran if she needs an assistant. Gran would never have it.
We eat Christmas dinner in the living room this year so as to limit Gran's walking. My mother brings her a plate, which she accepts sheepishly. She smiles and jokes with us, laughing about our horrible singing while Mike plays Christmas carols on the piano.
The end of the night somewhat resembles an Egyptian parade, with gran as the princess in a wheelchair and us carrying her down the steps to the car. Through our joking and laughing there is a somber tone... you can tell she hates the honor.
I held her hand before while she was waiting in the car to leave and I kissed her soft cheek. I realized how much I have taken for granted being so close with such an amazing human being. The mortality, hers and my own, of our time together became a reality and not just a distant relative I hear about through my mother's relayed messages.
Christmas is not about presents, we know that though. It is about family, something many people do not get the privilege of. And I think it is a gentle reminder to all of us that we need to take care of each other, especially those who have taken such nurturing care of us. I will probably benefit the most from these words, but I do want to wish anyone reading this a very merry holiday. Enjoy the chance to really give yourself.
Love,
Lauren
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Written on Saturday December 11th 2010
Cristina Taborda.
It is a true mark up to who she was, what I saw today, standing in the Cardinal Memorial homes at Dundas and Bathurst. It was solidarity amoungst the masses, coming together to mourn a great loss in our world. Coming together to see who was left behind.
Funerals are for the living. I strongly believe that.
Funerals are for condolences, distractions and support groups for the ones who are left behind. Funerals for young people, are especially hard. I am in a room of over 300, and more than 3 quarters of the guests are under 30 years old.
“ how did you know Cristina?” The question circulates and I feel almost challenged to come up with a good enough answer to be present. It is sad because when I think hard enough I don’t know if I do have a good enough reason to be crying. Hell, I have barely had a conversation with Cristina that was not small talk. But I feel like I was touched by her, and I cried, and I laughed and I smiled at her photos. That girl had energy.
You can hear people in the back of the room saying that this 24 year old lived more of a life than many who survive age 50. The photos on the overhead flip through, most recognized from facebook albums and tagged shots, mostly with a guitar in hand, Cristina is smiling and welcoming the world into her life. You get the feeling she did this often.
Considering the spontaneity of her passing, the crowd seems to take the news relatively well. So many questions of why we lost such a shining light are muted but hanging above us, beyond the small talk and empathetic hugs.
It is love that the room is feeling. We loved this girl. She stood for happiness and passion, she sang for her roots and her family, she smiled for her friends and her fans. Cristina Taborda was the best kind of rock star.
You will be missed.
It is a true mark up to who she was, what I saw today, standing in the Cardinal Memorial homes at Dundas and Bathurst. It was solidarity amoungst the masses, coming together to mourn a great loss in our world. Coming together to see who was left behind.
Funerals are for the living. I strongly believe that.
Funerals are for condolences, distractions and support groups for the ones who are left behind. Funerals for young people, are especially hard. I am in a room of over 300, and more than 3 quarters of the guests are under 30 years old.
“ how did you know Cristina?” The question circulates and I feel almost challenged to come up with a good enough answer to be present. It is sad because when I think hard enough I don’t know if I do have a good enough reason to be crying. Hell, I have barely had a conversation with Cristina that was not small talk. But I feel like I was touched by her, and I cried, and I laughed and I smiled at her photos. That girl had energy.
You can hear people in the back of the room saying that this 24 year old lived more of a life than many who survive age 50. The photos on the overhead flip through, most recognized from facebook albums and tagged shots, mostly with a guitar in hand, Cristina is smiling and welcoming the world into her life. You get the feeling she did this often.
Considering the spontaneity of her passing, the crowd seems to take the news relatively well. So many questions of why we lost such a shining light are muted but hanging above us, beyond the small talk and empathetic hugs.
It is love that the room is feeling. We loved this girl. She stood for happiness and passion, she sang for her roots and her family, she smiled for her friends and her fans. Cristina Taborda was the best kind of rock star.
You will be missed.
Monday, December 13, 2010
2:33 am.
Oh, the Euphoria of knowing what you want to do with yourself.
Unexplicable.
time.
for.
bed.
Unexplicable.
time.
for.
bed.
Hello, I am back.
I just returned to Toronto after a 6 month sebadical to the rest of north America.
First thing I did was buy a bike to replace the one that was stolen the week before I left Toronto. It is cheaper than a metropass and more environmentally friendly than a car. After 6 months of retrieving my daily cardio from the great outdoors I do not intend to spend money to get to a building where I can pay for that same work out. I would rather get the work out on the way to work. Call me crazy.
So after suiting myself up with a nice 90 dollar, most likely stolen bicycle off of craigslist. I proceeded to kick up the kickstand and coast out onto the streets of Toronto.
Somehow I always seem to forget this part. Everytime I leave Toronto I forget this part about coming back….
Bicycling in Toronto is the scariest thing I have ever done on a daily basis. This comes from the mouth of a seasoned whitewater raft guide who climbs multipitch trad in her spare time. …. I am much more worried about my wellbeing when I am trying to navigate the potholes and SUVs of torontos dangerous roadways.
Sometimes I do ponder that perhaps this too will help keep my heart rate up, every time I try to make a left turn or go under the spadina/ Dupont tunnel.
But its wrong. Bikers should not be punished, Biking is the most economical, environmentaly and healthy form of transportation that exists… why is Toronto punishing them?
First thing I did was buy a bike to replace the one that was stolen the week before I left Toronto. It is cheaper than a metropass and more environmentally friendly than a car. After 6 months of retrieving my daily cardio from the great outdoors I do not intend to spend money to get to a building where I can pay for that same work out. I would rather get the work out on the way to work. Call me crazy.
So after suiting myself up with a nice 90 dollar, most likely stolen bicycle off of craigslist. I proceeded to kick up the kickstand and coast out onto the streets of Toronto.
Somehow I always seem to forget this part. Everytime I leave Toronto I forget this part about coming back….
Bicycling in Toronto is the scariest thing I have ever done on a daily basis. This comes from the mouth of a seasoned whitewater raft guide who climbs multipitch trad in her spare time. …. I am much more worried about my wellbeing when I am trying to navigate the potholes and SUVs of torontos dangerous roadways.
Sometimes I do ponder that perhaps this too will help keep my heart rate up, every time I try to make a left turn or go under the spadina/ Dupont tunnel.
But its wrong. Bikers should not be punished, Biking is the most economical, environmentaly and healthy form of transportation that exists… why is Toronto punishing them?
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Now.
I think the reason I write about the "now" so much... is because I have no idea where it is or how I can live in it.
I get lost.
I get worried.
I think down the road and I have no idea if what I am choosing right now will effect my future. And that fucking scares me.
_________________________________________________
Words written using a security guards pen in the waiting room at St. Mikes hospital, family Practice:
What makes us who we are?
Is it the trips we take?
Is it the blind and frightened choices we make?
is it our mistakes?
One of the most valuable lessons, which i would have never known i was
receiving at the time of delivery... comes from a trip leader on a rafting tour years ago...
" its not about what goes wrong. Its not about how you fucked it up. In the end, it is all about how you clean up, how you get yourself out of it. that is all that matters."
It is about how you deal with what the world thrusts at your chest. When you are suffocating and panicked. It is not about how sad your situation is. it is about your ability to breathe under those pressures you never could have imagined or foreseen.
It is about your ability to live and still love your life and those in it.
yea I think that guy was onto something there...
I get lost.
I get worried.
I think down the road and I have no idea if what I am choosing right now will effect my future. And that fucking scares me.
_________________________________________________
Words written using a security guards pen in the waiting room at St. Mikes hospital, family Practice:
What makes us who we are?
Is it the trips we take?
Is it the blind and frightened choices we make?
is it our mistakes?
One of the most valuable lessons, which i would have never known i was
receiving at the time of delivery... comes from a trip leader on a rafting tour years ago...
" its not about what goes wrong. Its not about how you fucked it up. In the end, it is all about how you clean up, how you get yourself out of it. that is all that matters."
It is about how you deal with what the world thrusts at your chest. When you are suffocating and panicked. It is not about how sad your situation is. it is about your ability to breathe under those pressures you never could have imagined or foreseen.
It is about your ability to live and still love your life and those in it.
yea I think that guy was onto something there...
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