ThoseGirlsAreWild.com and LaidtheBook.com/Blog are the only blog sites I have time for. This one was a great personal release but I will no longer be posting new content here.

All the Best in 2010,

Shannon

The first time your phone rang out, I knew in turn that my time with you had run out.

I read about the great sadness that others have experienced and no matter how severe their conditions, I can’t help but relate. Foolishly relate, as though the emptiness of rejection has any relation to the hollow-dryness of losing someone who loved you in return. But I do anyway.

I don’t know who to blame most but I have to settle on me since I am the only one in scolding distance. So the bashing begins … here on after, I shall be referred to as “dummy”:

Dummy you missed all the signs one at a time and furthermore you actualized fantasy signs while you were at it. Dummy you gave too much, asked for too little and settled all of your prized possessions on marsh grounds. Dummy you didn’t ask any of the right questions and you ignored all of the important answers. Dummy you forgot to be guarded while attempting to be cooperative – and look where you stand because of that. Dummy, you chose to be trusting with the untrustworthy. Dummy you threw away a good one to chase the lost one. Dummy you gambled your health in hopes of winning his heart. Dummy you still cry over him and all the while he is moving into her.

But learning is for the living and wallowing is for the dead. Despite the heavy sadness, the internal bruising and the mental baggage – I am not dead. Unwanted, inept and insufficient as I may be in his eyes, I am still not any of the former in my own. I have learned. I am learning. And whether I actually believe this to be true or not, deep down I do understand that I will pull through my own great sadness as a greater person.

So, what remarkable lessons did the broken hearted girl piece together? I have learned to believe people when they show me who they are. I have learned not to rationalize other’s shortcomings and to openly discuss my own. I accept that most times in matters of the heart, hard work does not equal happy endings. I understand that being supportive has more to do with silent assurance rather than open analyzation (especially in concerns to those who are not quite steady on their paths). I again believe that the same rules apply to all – regardless of your history with someone don’t be quick to give because they will not be inclined to appreciate. Most importantly I understand that when someone says “they are not ready” you may not hear it, but they whisper “for you” afterwards. At that point you need to know that if you’re going to stick it out it’s going to be an ugly hard-fought battle with absolutely no guarantees. If you win? Lucky you. If you lose? Then like me, your tears will mean less. How much pity should others have on the gambler who bet their world on the horse who showed no signs of wanting to run?    

With all this being said I must say; I still can’t help but ache. More disgustingly, all things considered I can’t help but appreciate him and smile widely when reminiscing about the brief era where his ring tone made my heart sing along. But I forgive myself for this foul since I understand that he wouldn’t be able to accomplish such brutality – without bruises – if he were any other way. I know I am not the only one in his world guilty of wishful oversight.

I wish I could shout hurtful words at him in a crowded room so the entire universe regarded him with the same dismissal he dished out to me. I wish I could undo the whole ordeal. I wish – hell I wish I built a damn and got the hoover over this bull dookie.

ThoseGirlsAreWild.com

I’m growing, I’m learning, I’m hurting, I’m missing, I’m moving on with or without you. It’s been a wow year to say the least. Sometimes I check my blind spot and catch a piece of my face in my side mirrors. I’m so different now and I wonder if that bothers anyone else as much as it bothers me. Maybe it’s a winter thing but I don’t make time for myself the way that I used to. I don’t work out, I don’t dress up and let’s not even talk about the shape of my legs and feet. I’ve become busy. Disgustingly, suffocatingly busy. I can’t wait until I can get on my bike, chase the wind and catch up with myself.

Reader you thought I’ve forgotten about you but in actuality I have forgotten about myself! Well forgotten is harsh, I’ve morseo been lost in my book work and preoccupied with other’s 9-5 work. I spent 90% of my weekend attached to my computer working on the biggest project of my little life. My book Laid, Young People’s Experiences on Sex in an Easy Access Culture is due MArch 1. The completed manuscript is due that is. The actual book comes out in September so don’t start asking me for free copies yet you cheap asses :). Also I have a new blog with my besty, which is less of a writer’s blog, as this is: www.thosegirlsarewild.com. That blog requires more updating as it has frequent readers (already at 5000 + hits after the first month). Anyway as I sit here with 4 word documents, 5 online tabs and my media player open I felt overwhelmed like I had to share something - capture a feeling.

I am overwhelmingly proud of myself. I have seen this sexual education book through and now I sit here on the brink of completion and I’m almost convinced that I may actually like it! For four years I have pursued a goal and now that goal is a task that I have executed with great care.

Do you know how it feels to see something through to the end?

It feels marvelous.

It was late afternoon, long after the crowd had dissipated and a new president had been sworn in. Yet despite the touching speech and mass of millions it was the first time all day I had felt truly hopeful – mostly hopeful because I was now indoors and no longer fearful I would lose a toe to frost bite.

After hours of wandering around the city we finally found vacancy inside of a tiny restaurant with cafeteria benches. Six of us from Toronto huddled over our food in the middle of a table book ended by two American couples.

My trip to President Barrack Obama’s Inauguration in Washington D.C. had been less epic than I pictured. When I had first heard Obama’s name, it was in 2004 and I was just a freshman in Centennial College’s journalism program. When I first saw his face on a cover, it was in 2006 on Time Magazine with the headline Why Barack Obama Could be the Next President. I blinked twice perhaps I had read it wrong. Maybe it said, Why Barack Obama Could Never be the Next President. I gave it another look and the words were still there – in bold.

I knew then, this man was going to be the story of my generation; a young, charismatic, new-aged, minority leader who not only believed in change but stood up for it. I pictured the Inauguration like a John Lenon concert, a Kennedy parade or a Martin Luther King rally. Unfortunately, my experience was not quite like that.

We left Toronto with three buses but never saw the other two again. The other two buses were detained at the border for seven hours, without just cause. My luggage with all of my warm clothes was loaded on of those buses – to this day I don’t have it back. Washington was extremely cold, the streets extremely crowded, food lineups were inconceivably long, bathrooms – even worse. After the Inuaguration people left the National Mall immediately and there really was not much else going on in the city to accommodate the influx of tourists. Though the general mood was positive, I was genuinely too uncomfortable to notice.

Finding a restaurant with seating took two hours of walking/ wandering. With food in my stomach and heat on my skin I unraveled my scarf from around my neck for the first time all day, bumping the lady beside me in the process. She had wiry yellow hair and brown skin. She looked me in the eye then glanced down and pointed to my, T.O. Supports Obama ‘09, pin.

“Are you from Canada?” asked the woman.

She told me she was from Los Angeles, I was not surprised. She introduced herself as Marissa.  

I nodded, “All of us are from Toronto. We came down on a bus.”

Marissa went on to explain how her entire family had gone door to door canvassing in Pennsylvania, one of the swing states. She kept describing Obama’s accomplishments as we: when we beat Hilary; when we were against the ropes; when we were elected.

“It took a lot of work but we made it,” Marissa continued. “Thank you so much for coming we’re glad to share this day with you!”

I smiled and waved her off but those words did not have sound context until I got home and heard first hand accounts of what the other buses had experienced at the border. Every single person had a valid Canadian passport but some were not born in Canada. Those born in Samalia, Ethiopia or Saudi Arabia had their passports confiscated. They were taken inside forced to remove their hijabs, if they were wearing one, then fingerprinted, photographed and in some cases questioned if they knew certain men from their home country.

Prince Adel Nur, was born in Saudi Arabia of an Ethiopian mother and a Samalian father. He said the border official looked him square in the eye and asked what business he had in Washington.

Nur, feeling a bit caught off guard by the obvious question answered wearily, “We are going to see Barack Obama’s Inuauguration.”

To that the official said that he would never visit Nur’s country to witness his political leader’s inauguration, so what was Nur’s real reason for visiting.

Far from the thank-you I had received for my attendance. I realized then that for everyone, Obama’s victory had its own context and did not belong to one set of people over any other. 

For Marissa, witnessing the Inauguration gave her a sense of worth and optimism towards her country. For Nur it meant North America was one giant-much-needed step closer towards equal rights. For me as a tri-racial woman living in Canada, it served as a reminder that globally, although we are all different, in the end we all want the same thing; to truly believe that in our community compassion and hard work alone, determine a person’s true colours. 

www.thosegirlsarewild.com

hey you all! I have a new blog with my best friend Andrea Lewis
www.thosegirlsarewild.com.

This blog will remain my private thoughts diary while the new blog will feature the lighter side of my life. Frequent both :D. I will be frequenting this new blog more often for a bit to get it going. see you there

Dear Monster,
I’m taking it in stride and leaving things in pieces. There is so much on my chest but at this point little to say to you so I’m writing a letter to you and mailing it to the universe. The world of words sits on my chest but only these reach my tongue: 

You are mistrustful and selfish, imperfect and inadequate.

You hurt me. I want to hurt you back you.

What damage can a girl do when she is hopeless and jaded, a pleaser and lonely.

so. goes. life.

go.live.life

signed,
A girl that’s not worth it

“How much booty shaking can we expect from your performance?” Much Music VJ Matt Babel asks the swarm of four tiny women called Girlicious at the 2008 Much Music Video Awards. 

“A looooooooot!” said the girls in unison making their booties bounce to the intonations of their voices.

You can call the quartet of teens and young twenty-somethings many things but to say they are liars would not be accurate. The girls stand frozen on stage before the beat kicks in and that is literally the last time their bodies do not bounce or vibrate for the rest of the performance. 

The day after the MMVAs is equally as hectic as day the before for Girlicious. The group that was formed in April reality-show style before a television audience’s eyes by Robin Antin, Pussy Cat Dolls creator. Three of the girls – the fourth, Tiffanie is MIA – line a tiny love seat at Republik nightclub quietly conducting another interview. From seven feet away it’s hard to make out what they are saying but it is clear that only one of them, Chrystina, is talking. Five minutes pass and the girls are dismissed from that reporter then broken up and assigned to separate interviews.

The leggy Latina Natalie struts over in the same mid-drift bearing LATINS DO IT BETTER t-shirt that she sports in the main photo on their website.

“I love it and I never wash it!” says Natalie, “No I’m just kidding.”

Actually, Natalie seems a lot like a kid. Having only been a star for a few months she seems genuinely enthused to talk and take pictures with anybody – she says she averages about 150 fan photos a day. With her huge smile and youthful sense of humour, it’s easy to see why the group successfully connects with a young audience.

“People just want to be my friend,” say Natalie. “I can start a random conversation with people because they’re just interested.”

And this, dear reader, poses the big question: is this tween/ teen mentorship with the girls of plastered makeup, booty shorts and glittery bras a chance for young women to strip sexy back or is it just some Stupid Shit. 

Toronto Star reporter Bill Brioux tends to lean towards the ladder in an article, Perfectly Packaged Just for Pre Teens, where he refers to the girl’s clothes as slutty and writes they are “sold like candy to the youngest possible audience.”

Antin who has spent over a decade dressing, grooming and teaching young girls like Natalie has an entire career that begs to differ.

“I’m aware that young girls are watching,” says Antin. “I want to be conscious of the young girls. Pussy Cat Dolls are the women and Girlicious are the baby dolls…A lot of people look at what I’m doing and say the girls are too sexy. It’s about self-expression. As a woman it’s okay to use what we have in the right way and I feel I’m teaching these young girls how to feel good about the changes in their bodies.”

Antin refers to the ladies of PCD and Girlicious as sexual super heroes, doing and wearing what they please. Like the hit Pussy Cat Dolls song Beep says: I don’t give a ****, Keep looking at my ****, Cause, it don’t mean a thing if you’re looking at my ****, Ha, I’m a do my thing while you’re playing with your ****.

When Natalie is shown The Toronto Star article with a picture of her in the same LATINS DO IT BETTER T-shirt and a cutline that refers to her appearance as slutty, she frowns and leans forward with intense purpose.

“Quote me, this is important,” she says. “I wear jeans and a T-shirt at home. I don’t walk around on the streets dressed like this, it’s a costume, it’s apart of being Girlicious, not being me.”

Although Natalie admits with the hectic Girlicious schedule, it’s hard to find time just for herself. The group, which was nominated for a Teen Choice Award, has a lot of work to be done before the album release on August 12. There just is not enough hours in a day take on others that don’t find the girl’s feisty lyrics and pink-glossed lips appealing. Especially when Antin admits she has to spend enough time as it is fighting off the older men who find them appetizing.

“It’s hard for me,” says Robin. “With The Dolls I’m like a friend, with Girlicious I have to be like a mom walking around saying to people, don’t do that! There will always be people who just don’t get it.”   

*an article I wrote for Creamworld Magazine