Knitnut.net. Watch my life unravel...
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Posted by Zoom! on February 7, 2010, at 8:58 am |
When I was a kid, I told lies because I was afraid to tell the truth. A lie was often the only possible way out of the path of my mother’s anger, so I always tried it, even though it didn’t usually work and usually led to a more severe punishment.
I also felt profoundly guilty whenever I was accused of something, whether I had done it or not. When you feel guilty, you look guilty, so sometimes I got convicted and punished for things I hadn’t done on the strength of my guilty face alone. But the more common path to punishment was that I did the thing, got caught, lied, looked guilty, wasn’t believed, and got punished.
One day in Grade Three, my teacher, Mrs. Shields, told us to draw pictures of what our dads did at work. I told Mrs. Shields that I didn’t have a dad (which, back then, was highly unusual), and she said “Okay, then draw a picture of what your mom does at work.”
Most kids would probably have then drawn a picture of what their mom did at work. Not me. I figured this was my chance to finally meet my dad. I went home and told my mom that I had to draw a picture of what my dad did at work.
“Did you tell her you don’t have a dad?”
“Yes,” I said, “But she said I have to.”
Now the eight-year-old logic behind this lie went something like this. My mom was a teacher, so school was Very Important to her. If Mrs. Shields said I had to draw a picture of what my dad did at work, then my mom would have to let me meet him so he could tell me what he did at work. At the very least, she would have to tell me what he did at work, and then I’d at least know something about him. How could I possibly lose? It was brilliant.
What I hadn’t anticipated was that my mother would write a note for me to give to Mrs. Shields, which I obviously couldn’t give to her because it was based on a lie. So, after my mother left for work the next morning, I buried the note in the garden.
I hoped that would be the end of it, but after recess Mrs. Shields took me out into the hall and asked about the note.
“What note?” I asked, trying hard not to look guilty.
“Your mother called,” she said, “And said you have a note for me. About the drawings yesterday.”
I was well and truly trapped now between two authority figures with the truth on their side, and I couldn’t think of any possible way out except ANOTHER lie. And even though the pile of lies was getting deeper and less convincing by the moment, I couldn’t imagine telling the truth, because telling the truth would involve confessing to lying, and lying was pretty much the worst thing you could ever do, except maybe killing people.
So I stuck to my guns. I insisted there was no note. I denied everything: the note, the original lie, everything. I basically told my teacher that my mother was lying. And then, at the end of the day, I did it all in reverse with my mother. I denied not giving Mrs. Shields the note, and the whole conversation we had in the hallway. I knew my lies didn’t add up and nobody could possibly believe me. But I just didn’t know what else to do. The truth, by this point, was too far gone.
I don’t remember how this story ends. But I’m happy to report that my dad is part of my life now, and he’s a professional bridge player.
Posted by Zoom! on February 4, 2010, at 6:21 am |
A couple of months ago I was having a bad day, so GC, who is very sweet, brought a tub of ice cream over to cheer me up. But not just any ice cream! It was Baskin Robbins Gold Medal Ribbon. (Whenever we go to Baskin Robbins for a cone, GC always tries a different flavour, but I always get Gold Medal Ribbon, except for that one time in Peterboro when I tried Caramel Espresso but regretted it and wished I’d gotten Gold Medal Ribbon instead.)
Now, as everybody knows, the very best part of the Gold Medal Ribbon is the ribbon. It’s a rich twist of caramel that winds its delectable way through the chocolate and vanilla ice cream, bringing out the best in both of them.
But on that particular day, in that particular tub of ice cream, there was a problem. The problem was there was virtually no caramel ribbon in the entire tub of Gold Medal Ribbon. Eternal optimist that I am, I kept digging deeper and deeper, in pursuit of the elusive ribbon, telling myself it must have all sunk to the bottom. But no. All the caramel in the entire tub would have fit on a single teaspoon. Sad to say, without its caramel ribbon, Gold Medal Ribbon is boring. Lackluster. Not worth $8. By the time I got to the bottom, I was one bitterly disappointed fat former optimist.
I’m a pretty good consumer. If I’m disappointed in a product, I contact the company and politely tell them why. This happens maybe twice a year. In my experience, most companies are very good about responding promptly and offering an apology and, usually, some kind of solution, such as a refund or a replacement.
I contacted Baskin Robbins via the “Contact Us” form on their website. I explained the problem. They never acknowledged my note or dealt with my complaint. I tried again a few weeks later. I explained that this was my second attempt to communicate with them regarding this matter, and said I would appreciate a response. No response. That was a week ago.
I can’t think of a better way to alienate customers than to ignore their attempts to communicate with you. I mean, why even put a “contact us” form on your website, if you have no intention of reading or responding to your customers’ inquiries?
Posted by Zoom! on February 3, 2010, at 6:55 am |
On Day 2 of the COPE program, I learned I was an INFP in the Myers-Briggs personality assessment – Introverted, iNtuitive, Feeling, Perceptive. I did an online version awhile back and apparently I’ve changed from a thinker to a feeler since then. Not sure how I feel about that (or what I think of it, for that matter…)
Anyway, here are some of the careers an INFP should AVOID:
Police Detective
Management Consultant
Corrections Officer
School Bus Driver
Coal Miner
Social Services Worker
This is interesting, because a lot of them involve being an authority figure, and the idea of being an authority figure makes me squeamish. I wasn’t even comfortable being an authority figure to my own child.
Apparently, we INFPs are much more suited to nice, civilized, non-authoritarian career pursuits such as art, counseling, writing, editing, and architecture.
Posted by Zoom! on February 2, 2010, at 6:41 am |
Day 1 of the COPE program was interesting. We did personality tests (results on Day 2) and some career interest tests from a website called Career Cruising. (Sadly, it’s password-protected and I’m not allowed to give you the password, otherwise we could all take the test and compare notes.)
Career Cruising asks a series of questions about things you might like or not like in a job. For example, would you like a job that involves lots of calculations? Would you like working with small children? Would you like working outside in all kinds of weather?
Based on my answers to the 116 questions, it narrowed the field of possible careers from 30,000 down to 40.
After the first round of 39 questions, these were the Top Ten Suggested Careers for me:
1. Gerontologist
2. Abuse / Crisis Counsellor
3. Personal Financial Planner
4. Bereavement Counsellor
5. Addictions Counsellor
6. Political Aide
7. Activist
8. Print Journalist
9. Writer
10. Market Research Analyst
And after the final round of questions, these were my Top Ten:
1. Epidemiologist
2. Certified Management Accountant
3. Political Aide
4. Public Policy Analyst
5. Market Research Analyst
6. Chartered Accountant
7. Medical Transcriptionist
8. Writer
9. Researcher
10. Gerontologist
Most of those are careers I think I could sink my teeth into. I don’t have the time or money to attain the education required for some of them, but I’m impressed that the test was able to come up with such an intriguing list.
Interestingly, webmaster made the Top 40 list, which is what I used to do. And so did criminologist, which is where my educational background lies.
Posted by Zoom! on February 1, 2010, at 6:37 am |
This is what I’m doing for the next eight days:
COPE (Career Orientation Pathways for Employment)
The COPE (Career Orientation Pathways for Employment) Workshop is an interactive 8 day Career Decision Making Workshop to assist participants in determining the next “step” of their career pathway.
Participants have the opportunity for hands-on career exploration in
relation to current labour market info/trends and self discovery.
Each participant creates a Personal Profile through vocational
assessments. As well participants are provided with the tools to conduct
effective occupational and labour market research, and learn to conduct
effective informational research exploring current labour market trends.
In combining these elements, participants create their own COPE Career
Action Plan, which focuses on moving forward with positive and realistic
goals and actions.
Discover your talents!
Uncover your potential!
Set your Career Path!
Our services are FREE to ALL unemployed individuals!
We’re here for YOU every step of the way!
The description gets a little manic towards the end there with all those exclamation points and capitalized words, but I’m optimistic that the program will be better than the blurb.
Either way, I’ll be sure to let you know…
Posted by Zoom! on January 31, 2010, at 2:34 pm |
 John A Last night GC and I found ourselves at the Umi Cafe for a book launch and poetry reading. The author of the book, Akili Castlin, was not there, because he’s in Pelican Bay State Prison in California. He’s 37 years old. He’s been incarcerated since he was 23. He’s been in solitary confinement for the past decade. He spends 23 and a half hours alone in his cell each day, reading, writing, and waiting.
 Because Akili wasn’t able to be here to read his poetry at his book launch, a number of people here in Ottawa each agreed to perform a poem or two on his behalf: John Akpata, Yavar Hameed, Free Will, Faye Estrella, Stephane L., Max Rowsell, Zoe Maggio, Peter Pants and others all participated. The event was hosted by Tara Lyons, and was taped for future radio broadcast in California where Akili might be able to listen to it.
 Max Rowsell and Tara Lyons I’d never heard of Akili Castlin before, but what’s probably more surprising that I’ve heard of him now. So many prisoners disappear into solitary confinement and are permanently and completely isolated from the rest of the world. It’s a devastatingly lonely and alienating place to be. It destroys a lot of people. This book – Who Am Eye – is a testament to Akili’s capacity to flourish and remain creative under such dehumanizing conditions. It’s also a testament to the people on the outside who work with prisoners to help ensure they are not completely silenced and forgotten.
It seems like a long time ago now that I was helping retired bank robber Paddy Mitchell with his blog. He would write the material, snail-mail it to me or Linda, and we’d type it up and put it on his blog. It was a fairly slow, laborious process as blogging goes, but it meant a lot to Paddy to be a writer and to be part of the world outside prison. He died about two years ago now, of cancer, at the Butner Medical Center for inmates. His final book – a novel – is being published posthumously in the next week or two. I’ll be putting something on his blog soon about the book and how to order it.
Posted by Zoom! on January 30, 2010, at 10:04 am |
I spent two hours and ten minutes at the gynecologist’s office yesterday. Most of that time was spent alone, half-naked in an examining room, with nothing to read but quit-smoking pamphlets and osteoporosis posters. I entertained myself by making deals with myself like “If nobody comes back into this room by 1:15, I swear I’m going to push the Code Blue button.” They came back at 1:10. Lucky for them.
Anyway. They’re suggesting I have my uterus and ovaries removed. The uterus because of the fibroid, and the ovaries because when you have breast cancer, it’s not such a good idea to have ovaries and no uterus. (That’s because the ongoing hormone treatment for breast cancer changes once you go through menopause, and if you have ovaries but no uterus, they’ll have no way of knowing when you’ve gone through menopause.)
After doing some research, I’m inclined to think I’m not going to do it. I’m ready to let my uterus go, but not my ovaries. Because of the breast cancer, I wouldn’t be a candidate for hormone replacement therapy, so I think having my ovaries removed would mean an instant end to hormones. I like hormones. Among other things, they protect against heart disease, osteoporosis and wrinkles.
Anyway. Did you hear about the guy who got busted for possessing Simpson’s porn? He’s a registered sex offender now, because Australia considers underage cartoon characters being depicted in sexual situations to be child pornography. Australia has also banned small-breasted women of any age from appearing in adult films, presumably on the grounds that it might arouse pedophiles. The world just keeps getting weirder.
Posted by Zoom! on January 29, 2010, at 9:46 am |
I had hoped to blog about something interesting today, but nothing is coming to mind because all I can think about is how bloody cold I am.
It’s 34 below zero outside with the wind chill. That’s -29 Farenheit. I’m FREEZING. And I’m not even outside – I’m in my house, which is 18 C, or 64 F.
My programmable thermostat is still set to what it was when I was working, which is pretty chilly during the day and overnight (17 C), but warmer first thing in the morning and evenings and weekends (19 C). (How warm do you keep your home?)
When I was a kid, I was cold all the time. I lived for about five years in an old brick schoolhouse which was very cold and drafty and expensive to heat. My bedroom was in the basement at the end of a hallway, and it didn’t have a heat vent going into it. I promised myself, as I lay shivering in my bed every night, that when I grew up I would live in a nice warm house.
But then I grew up and lived in a series of apartments, most of which allowed me no control over the temperature. Some of them were hot, some were cold. My cumulative life experience was that I had no more control over the indoor weather than I did over the outdoor weather.
Until three years ago, when I bought a house. Now that I finally have control over the temperature, I’ve discovered I tend to be kind of cheap when it comes to home heating. I’d rather wear three sweaters than crank up the thermostat. I think subconsciously I interpret warmth as a sign of waste. Maybe it was because I was raised that way, I don’t know.
My last gas bill was about $65. It’s a small house, in the middle of a row, but still. That’s pretty low, isn’t it?
Posted by Zoom! on January 28, 2010, at 2:06 pm |
J.D. Salinger, author of Catcher in the Rye, and Dr. Howard Zinn, activist and author of The People’s History of the U.S., both just died.
I know they were old (91 and 87 respectively) and they led full lives, and they had to go sometime, but…I feel sad.
Posted by Zoom! on January 28, 2010, at 9:22 am |
 We went to Everybody’s Art Show at Irene’s Pub last night.
I love the all-inclusive concept: everybody is invited to create and donate art for this event. Everybody! So for weeks ahead of time, artists and non-artists alike are busy making art for the main event, which is a silent auction. Most, but not all, of the contributors are regulars at Irene’s. You get everything from beet juice on a crumpled paper bag, to a bicycle sculpted from a single piece of wire, to photographs and paintings, to textile art and found objects and a thing in a box.
All the proceeds go to charity. This year the charity was an organization that buys art supplies for northern communities.
 There were about 30 pieces on sale last night, including an older one of mine, called Crack House. (It apparently fell off the wall and had to be re-framed, so it wasn’t on display until yesterday.) It sold for $35 to a young woman who seemed quite happy to have it.
 Night Wind The most highly sought-after piece, judging by the fierce bidding, was the three-dimensional Night Wind by Albert Prisner. At $153, I think it ended up being the priciest piece there. There was also a native storytelling piece by Bernar’l'espirit that saw a lot of action, as well as a photograph taken by Ian Tamblyn, and another by Bob Acton. (There was some spirited controversy at the end of the bidding over who was the legitimate winner of the Acton piece; I’m not sure how that got resolved.)
 This year they had a new feature – an artist who created a painting at the show, over the course of the evening. I wish I could do that.
The event was better attended this year than last, because last year there was a wicked blizzard that day.
 I didn’t bid on anything myself this time, since my art budget is temporarily depleted. But I agreed with the popular bid – Night Wind was the one to want.
My hat goes off to all the open-minded people at Irene’s – especially Pat – who have designed an artistically inclusive event which encourages and celebrates even the most fledgling creativity and talent.
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