During WWII, my Nonna was still living in Italy. From the age of 13, as soon as she finished what they considered grade 5, she began working in the city as a babysitter and housekeeper for a wealthy family in order to help support her family. What she had really wanted to do was be a teacher and her own teacher had even gone to her mother and offered to pay half of her tuition herself if her mother would allow her to continue studying. However, times were tough and my Nonna's father had been captured and was a POW in Germany. Therefore, because my Nonna was the oldest of her brothers and sisters, her mother needed her to go to work. When my Nonna tells the story she always says her mother laughed and asked the teacher if she was stupid. The thought of wasting money for school, for a girl, was unimaginable. So, my Nonna traveled to the city every day to work.
At this time, the war was really raging and the threat of attack was a constant presence in mind. the first time my Nonna heard the alarm sound announcing the threat of bombs, she hurried down to the shelter along with everyone else for protection.She describes it as the most crowded area she has ever been in. the people were packed in, packed in so tightly into this underground area that it became increasingly difficult to breathe with each passing second. The smell was overbearing. The seconds passed by like hours.
After that one time she swore never to go under again. Never.
Now for those who know my Nonna, they know that when she says never she means it. My Nonna, god love her, is one of the most stubborn people I have ever met. Trust me, I've traveled across the world with her and it could come to something as trivial as putting on your seat belt in the airplane, but if she doesn't want to do it - she won't. For better or worse, when she sets her mind to something there's no changing it. I've come to learn that I inherited some of this trait. However, I do hope that because I understand how stubborn I can be that it makes me stop and think from time to time and consider why I feel so set in my ways.
I've really only ever had one act of stubbornness that lead to all out screaming matches with my parents, arguments with my extended family and many tears on my part. When I was close to graduating from high school, I applied to four post secondary institutions: UBC, SFU, UVIC and Kwantlan (my safety). My number one school was UVIC. I didn't really know what I wanted to do, all I knew was that i loved to write and UVIC had a fantastic writing program that I wanted to take. The acceptance letters began rolling in and I was accepted to every school to which I had applied. So I assumed that I would be going to UVIC, my parents however, had other plans. They had assumed I would be going to UBC as my dad works for the university and I am eligible for a tuition waiver. When I told them I was going to UVIC, I was met with strong aversion from my entire family. I was told I was ungrateful, that I was being ridiculous, that my opinions didn't matter. It finally came down to my parents telling me that if I went to UVIC, they would not be helping me financially. Feeling defeated, I was one day away from accepting UBC when a letter arrived from SFU. I had been awarded an entrance scholarship. In that moment I chose my university based not on the school's merits, but because of what it was not: UBC.
When my mother asked if I had sent in my acceptance letter to UBC I spitefully old her that I had accepted SFU and she and my father couldn't say anything about it because they weren't paying for any of it. From that day forward they never paid for one cent towards my education.
The next time the alarm went off warning of a potential bombing, my Nonna was working in the home of the wealthy lady. She was busy dressing her little boy when the alarm wailed through the streets. The lady of the house began pulling at my Nonna to go to the shelter and my Nonna refused. The lady began to beg and plead for my Nonna to go with her but instead my Nonna told the lady to take her little boy and go while she stayed in the house. Wealthy she might be, but it was not a wealth of courage that she held. The lady being too afraid to go on her own decided to stay with my Nonna. My Nonna, the lady and the little boy hid under these great stone steps in the house and waited for the alarm to sound that would tell them the danger had been averted.
I spent seven long years at SFU. I began an English degree which I rushed my way through only to find myself in a panic filled situation where I realized I didn't know what I would do if I graduated. I studied abroad in Italy and learned a valuable lesson from one of my favorite books: "it's not what the world holds for you, it's what you bring to it." I returned from Italy and added a Publishing minor to my program which reminded me that I should be dreaming big and aiming as high as I could for myself. Shortly after starting my minor, I added a Communication major to my program. Communication, a subject I had once thought of as "stupid English" and that was not offered at UBC or UVIC. In fact, SFU's Communication program attracts students from across Canada as it is considered one of the best. All facts I was unaware of and all facts that had no bearing on me falling in love with the program and what it had to offer me in terms of options for the future.
it was during this waiting time that two bombs dropped.....and landed... one on either side of the shelter, killing everyone inside.
It took me seven years to realize that a decision I made because I was too stubborn to accept someone making a life altering decision for me, was one of the best I have ever made. I'm graduating this year and all I can think is where would I be if I had decided to go to UBC. Would I be happy? Would I have a job I love? Would I have met the people that I consider my nearest and dearest? Would I have met my first love? Would I have found self love?
Where would my Nonna be if she had gone into the bomb shelter? Would I be here to reflect on it now?
While I don't think that being stubborn or wholly unbending to alternative ideas and situations is healthy, sometimes, just sometimes, it's in those moments where we follow our gut and act on raw feeling that we can discover the most about ourselves. We can discover that we are the exception, not the rule. It is in these moments that we realize that we don't have to just go through the motions of living but that all of those motions are leading to something great if we want it to. Be the exception. Look for what you need and don't settle for anything that plays contrary to your needs. Be the exception. Fight for what you need to make your future yours, even if that means being stubborn every once in a while because you never know when a bomb might drop and make the decision for you.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Northern Exposure - His Story (authored by the 'He')
thunk. his head falls against the inside of the door.
as he exhales he opens his eyes peering through the peep hole into the hallway.
“c’mon.. “ he whispers to himself. .. waiting. watching. terrified.
flustered with nerves and weightless. clearly out of control and positively
certain. adrenaline races around lighting strikes and through questions
without answers.
he’s afraid to close his eyes. if he looks away even for a second and misses her who knows what he really missed.
“c’mon.” he says allowed.. “how’d I get here?” he thinks.
it was probably 2 hours ago when he first noticed her looking his
direction. and not in a glancing way. in a ‘hold my gaze as long as you
like. i like it too.’ kinda way. probably an hour before that he’d
spoken with her. the normal small talk of sorts. be charming. be kind,
appropriate and nice. “be polite, and you’ll find out what you think
about somebody.” he’d heard before.
what he quickly noticed was that when she laughed, it felt like her hand had
touched his. looking in her eyes felt like a warm hug, and her smile
shot anything clever he could think of out of the sky. his interest was
peaked. and as the details danced closer to the edge of desire, he
realized that really... he knew nothing about her.
as part of his brain fantasized, another part strategized. another part
started to question and another part gave answers, until everything sat
in a giant mess in his mind. and then, smack dab in the middle of all
the half-plotting landed a shot of tequila.
huh?
he searched the table for an answer, yet the answer was at another
table. the oldest of old time gestures. he scoffs to himself at the
nerve of that fellow. he shrugs aside this feeling of unnecessary
jealousy. he goes back to his conversation with another person at the
table just long enough that when he looks back, she’s on her way over to
the table for introductions.
interesting.
the dozen or so futile ideas he had about how to walk out of this place
with his arm around her fell to the ground and exploded on impact,
burning his feet and making him forget how to walk. each thought rattled
quickly from one part of his brain to the next, as he tried harder than
ever not to show it. poker face.
the moment kinda hits him like the house lights at 2:15 AM. A signal
perhaps, who knows. Not him. Better he pays up, join the group and see
about getting home. There’s things to do. Practicality starts to filter
back through his mind.
But as it hits so does the jealousy. An old inclination. Maybe its the
feeling that you get get when something meaningful feels like its
getting shelved for something useless. or maybe he was just wrong about
what felt meaningful.
Fuck it. You got a plan? The only decent one is to get up and leave with
everybody and have her come with. Everyone else gets up to leave
naturally. he feels like an actor.
And then.. it all takes 5 seconds to change. 5 seconds to go from ‘would be
nice’ to ‘what do we do?’. she grabs her hat and jacket, and puts them
on the back of the seat next to him; not on her own back. she won’t be
joining him.
he tries to part the shallow sea of alcohol floating in his mind. his fist
clenches in his pocket. his eyebrow rises. does she know that he’s
thinking of her? would she do this if she did? the cold blast of the
night sky feels colder then it should. its tainted with a combination of
that which is certain and that which is uncertain. ‘what do i do?” does
he do nothing? the cavalry won’t be coming over the hill if she needs
them. there’s no rules out here. he realizes that he knows the tables
intentions more than he knows hers.
15 minutes have past.
sitting elbows on knees boots still on, feeling like he’s been throwing punches underwater.
16 minutes.
she’s an adult. what do i have a crush? why don’t you just relax and realize
that you only feel mad because you feel like you got beat at something.
17 minutes.
that’s ridiculous. beat at something? that doesn’t make any sense. you’re
concerned? sure. you’re infatuated? probably. how come? those eyes
perhaps...
18 minutes...
nope. not happening. can’t do it. no one will be there to help if she needs
it. if she doesn’t, then great. he’d rather upset her and have her safe
then sit like this and not know. selfish. he doesn’t care. he’s the
closest thing to a cavalry that she’s going to find if she needs one.
not a terribly secure feeling - but here we go.
convincing help isn’t difficult. away they go. one of a thousand situations could
play out, but he knows if she’ll be angry or happy to see him right
away. it’s a lovely night otherwise..
perfect timing or the only timing? a minute earlier may have brought about
challenges, from broken beers bottles to drunken negotiating. a minute
later could have brought panic. but there she is.. wrapping things up.
here we go. … get out.
one of them catches him eye to eye. he’s saying his goodbyes, or at least
now knows he should start to. chances are he wasn’t saying goodbye
before hand, but trying to find a way to say to good morning.
put together a pathetic ruse. she’s quick to come to her friends.
safe and sound as they say. he can take his boots off. exhale. minutes later the group is back together.
the magnetism is unmistakable. to his left he can feel her eyes. he wonders
if she can feel how badly he’d like to put his arm around her. he
wonders if it feels more awkward for both of them to not be pressing
closer to each other. he wishes they were alone. even for a second. he
wonders if she’ll try and find him later. or what she would say if he
tried to find her. what would he say? in this room of people every
little thing he wants to say or do would raise an eyebrow. except to
her. she’d understand. she’s thinking the same thing.
ding. elevator opens in the lobby.
1.
2.
217. He’ll never forget 217. 4 or 5 seconds go by with him trying to stare
at her long enough that she’ll read in his eyes that he wants her to
stay with him. her stare seems to say the same thing. “i’ll be sitting
against the inside of my door.” they both say. her door closes quietly.
his heart rate is jacked.
thunk. his head falls against the inside of the door.
as he exhales he opens his eyes peering through the peep hole into the hallway.
“c’mon.. “ he whispers to himself. .. waiting. watching. terrified.
as he exhales he opens his eyes peering through the peep hole into the hallway.
“c’mon.. “ he whispers to himself. .. waiting. watching. terrified.
flustered with nerves and weightless. clearly out of control and positively
certain. adrenaline races around lighting strikes and through questions
without answers.
he’s afraid to close his eyes. if he looks away even for a second and misses her who knows what he really missed.
“c’mon.” he says allowed.. “how’d I get here?” he thinks.
it was probably 2 hours ago when he first noticed her looking his
direction. and not in a glancing way. in a ‘hold my gaze as long as you
like. i like it too.’ kinda way. probably an hour before that he’d
spoken with her. the normal small talk of sorts. be charming. be kind,
appropriate and nice. “be polite, and you’ll find out what you think
about somebody.” he’d heard before.
what he quickly noticed was that when she laughed, it felt like her hand had
touched his. looking in her eyes felt like a warm hug, and her smile
shot anything clever he could think of out of the sky. his interest was
peaked. and as the details danced closer to the edge of desire, he
realized that really... he knew nothing about her.
as part of his brain fantasized, another part strategized. another part
started to question and another part gave answers, until everything sat
in a giant mess in his mind. and then, smack dab in the middle of all
the half-plotting landed a shot of tequila.
huh?
he searched the table for an answer, yet the answer was at another
table. the oldest of old time gestures. he scoffs to himself at the
nerve of that fellow. he shrugs aside this feeling of unnecessary
jealousy. he goes back to his conversation with another person at the
table just long enough that when he looks back, she’s on her way over to
the table for introductions.
interesting.
the dozen or so futile ideas he had about how to walk out of this place
with his arm around her fell to the ground and exploded on impact,
burning his feet and making him forget how to walk. each thought rattled
quickly from one part of his brain to the next, as he tried harder than
ever not to show it. poker face.
the moment kinda hits him like the house lights at 2:15 AM. A signal
perhaps, who knows. Not him. Better he pays up, join the group and see
about getting home. There’s things to do. Practicality starts to filter
back through his mind.
But as it hits so does the jealousy. An old inclination. Maybe its the
feeling that you get get when something meaningful feels like its
getting shelved for something useless. or maybe he was just wrong about
what felt meaningful.
Fuck it. You got a plan? The only decent one is to get up and leave with
everybody and have her come with. Everyone else gets up to leave
naturally. he feels like an actor.
And then.. it all takes 5 seconds to change. 5 seconds to go from ‘would be
nice’ to ‘what do we do?’. she grabs her hat and jacket, and puts them
on the back of the seat next to him; not on her own back. she won’t be
joining him.
he tries to part the shallow sea of alcohol floating in his mind. his fist
clenches in his pocket. his eyebrow rises. does she know that he’s
thinking of her? would she do this if she did? the cold blast of the
night sky feels colder then it should. its tainted with a combination of
that which is certain and that which is uncertain. ‘what do i do?” does
he do nothing? the cavalry won’t be coming over the hill if she needs
them. there’s no rules out here. he realizes that he knows the tables
intentions more than he knows hers.
15 minutes have past.
sitting elbows on knees boots still on, feeling like he’s been throwing punches underwater.
16 minutes.
she’s an adult. what do i have a crush? why don’t you just relax and realize
that you only feel mad because you feel like you got beat at something.
17 minutes.
that’s ridiculous. beat at something? that doesn’t make any sense. you’re
concerned? sure. you’re infatuated? probably. how come? those eyes
perhaps...
18 minutes...
nope. not happening. can’t do it. no one will be there to help if she needs
it. if she doesn’t, then great. he’d rather upset her and have her safe
then sit like this and not know. selfish. he doesn’t care. he’s the
closest thing to a cavalry that she’s going to find if she needs one.
not a terribly secure feeling - but here we go.
convincing help isn’t difficult. away they go. one of a thousand situations could
play out, but he knows if she’ll be angry or happy to see him right
away. it’s a lovely night otherwise..
perfect timing or the only timing? a minute earlier may have brought about
challenges, from broken beers bottles to drunken negotiating. a minute
later could have brought panic. but there she is.. wrapping things up.
here we go. … get out.
one of them catches him eye to eye. he’s saying his goodbyes, or at least
now knows he should start to. chances are he wasn’t saying goodbye
before hand, but trying to find a way to say to good morning.
put together a pathetic ruse. she’s quick to come to her friends.
safe and sound as they say. he can take his boots off. exhale. minutes later the group is back together.
the magnetism is unmistakable. to his left he can feel her eyes. he wonders
if she can feel how badly he’d like to put his arm around her. he
wonders if it feels more awkward for both of them to not be pressing
closer to each other. he wishes they were alone. even for a second. he
wonders if she’ll try and find him later. or what she would say if he
tried to find her. what would he say? in this room of people every
little thing he wants to say or do would raise an eyebrow. except to
her. she’d understand. she’s thinking the same thing.
ding. elevator opens in the lobby.
1.
2.
217. He’ll never forget 217. 4 or 5 seconds go by with him trying to stare
at her long enough that she’ll read in his eyes that he wants her to
stay with him. her stare seems to say the same thing. “i’ll be sitting
against the inside of my door.” they both say. her door closes quietly.
his heart rate is jacked.
thunk. his head falls against the inside of the door.
as he exhales he opens his eyes peering through the peep hole into the hallway.
“c’mon.. “ he whispers to himself. .. waiting. watching. terrified.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Northern Exposure
the mood had shifted. they were looking for more and she knew it. the tone had changed, grown more suggestive and the urging for more drinks in another location grew more insistent. she knew it was time to go. the voice that had told her to have fun and enjoy the company of the cute stranger in the black hat was now telling her that too much alcohol had been consumed by too many people. 5 of them. one of her. it was time to go.
bills tallied, cash exchanged, coats on and blast of cold air as the door opened. quiet. darkness. isolation.
they wanted her to come. she laughed and joked about a long drive the next day. they wanted her to come.
quiet roar, stirred dust, silver beast - dinosaur? no, F150. the driver waves. doors open. her people have come. they retreat as they see she isn't alone.
she moves to the vehicle and he jumps out. doors slam, flurry of excitement, forgotten communications, sly glances from passengers.
he enters the vehicle to her right. she inquires after his missing item. he presses his leg against it, against her. she's been found.
realization. confirmation. deliberation.
she desires contact to thank him. she calls, she knocks, she waits, she knocks, she waits, she retreats.
miscommunication?
phone rings. not him. an invitation, a chance to investigate. she looks and waits and tests the temperature. she leans where she hasn't before. she instigates contact. he smiles. he shrugs off her thanks.
yawns, goodnights, he glances back down the hall? or did she imagine that.
morning. did she imagine it? she's uncertain and shrugs off her crazy thoughts. she blames it on the alcohol. then he gives her shoulder a squeeze while passing her. a simple squeeze, but a suggestive squeeze. the squeeze tells her he knows she knows.
they know.
bills tallied, cash exchanged, coats on and blast of cold air as the door opened. quiet. darkness. isolation.
they wanted her to come. she laughed and joked about a long drive the next day. they wanted her to come.
quiet roar, stirred dust, silver beast - dinosaur? no, F150. the driver waves. doors open. her people have come. they retreat as they see she isn't alone.
she moves to the vehicle and he jumps out. doors slam, flurry of excitement, forgotten communications, sly glances from passengers.
he enters the vehicle to her right. she inquires after his missing item. he presses his leg against it, against her. she's been found.
realization. confirmation. deliberation.
she desires contact to thank him. she calls, she knocks, she waits, she knocks, she waits, she retreats.
miscommunication?
phone rings. not him. an invitation, a chance to investigate. she looks and waits and tests the temperature. she leans where she hasn't before. she instigates contact. he smiles. he shrugs off her thanks.
yawns, goodnights, he glances back down the hall? or did she imagine that.
morning. did she imagine it? she's uncertain and shrugs off her crazy thoughts. she blames it on the alcohol. then he gives her shoulder a squeeze while passing her. a simple squeeze, but a suggestive squeeze. the squeeze tells her he knows she knows.
they know.
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