Laurissa writes a femminist blog post!? (No, more like humanist)

This is for the skinny women who are tired of being told that "real women have curves" and constantly being reprimanded for not eating enough simply because their metabolism is rather fast. I know you can struggle with looking in the mirror and accepting what you see just as much as the next person. I know you have fallen pray to the bitter anger of jealousy. I feel for you. I imagine too that perhaps you are tired of the compliments on your looks and wish to be appreciated for what you carry in your mind, heart, and soul because I myself have felt that way and I don't even get that many compliments on my appearance.

HOWEVER, this is also for all the fuller bodied women because I want to show you that love for one person or group of people does not have to come at the expense of another. I know what the self hatred is like and the endless useless effort to change it all. I know that it can be harder to fall in love or get a job. Just the other day I heard my boss say that he needs cashiers but they have to be hot. I am not a cashier and the other girl who works in the same department as me has a similar body shape to minw while the cashier is much more thin. Were we all given our positions based on some ridiculous whim of my boss?  So it is truly possible that you are missing out on things because of your body type not to mention the name calling and persecution. It makes me sad.

We all need to learn how to accept ourselves and each other.

This is even for the man who is made fun of for being scrawny or fat, but it is also for the muscular man who is only appreciate for his body and expected to be a certain way.

This is for all people.

This is for the man who cries and is thought to be a sissy and the man who never cries and is thought to be too tough.

This is for the man ridiculed because he would rather cook, clean, and take care of his kids than fight with the numbers in their budget book and the woman ridiculed because cooking, cleaning, and childcare seem to her the most painful of monotonies.

It is for the woman who cannot walk home alone at night simply because of the gender she was born with and for the woman with a black belt in karate who walks without fear but gets criticized for trying to do things that are typically male.

This is for the woman who is persecuted in a job full of men and perhaps paid less too, but also for the woman who is looked down upon as someone not fighting for the cause simply because she WANTS to work in a more traditionally female role.

This is for the mother who wants to be respected for staying at home and the one who wants to be respected for having a career.

This is for all of us.

Fight for your cause, but not at the expense of someone else's struggle. We will only win if we work together.

Sympathy for the Hipster (What Hipsters Show About Humanity)

I saw a funny video one time that said that the one thing that we can all agree with whether we are gay, straight, black, white, religious, atheist, or none of the above is that we all hate hipsters. Even the hipsters are supposed to hate hipsters because no true hipster admits to being a hipster. I get it guys, I really do. I don't like their attitude like they are so much better than us just because I am not familiar with the band they like. I do not understand their ability to like things ironically. There is a Nerdfighter movement on the interwebs that says hey, let's unashamedly like what we like. That sounds a lot more authentic, real, and genuine than liking something to get status doesn't it? Here is the thing though, I was having a chat with a friend of mine who is basically a hipster and he was frustrated with how much people like certain books, movies, music, and TV shows because he felt that they didn't really like those things but were jumping on band wagons so that they could belong to a group or fan base. There is something wonderful about that sense of community when you all like the same thing. Hipsters may lack that sense of community but they have something else, authenticity. It may seem funny to say this when they are so known for liking things ironically, but I think a big part of why they don't want to admit to just straight up liking something popular is because they are afraid they don't like what it is for what it is, but for its popularity and to belong. They just want to like that weird band that no one has heard of because it makes them feel like they really like it for what it is and not for a community that it lets them be a part of, or a popularity it gives them, and also they seem to believe artists should create their art out of love for their art and not a desire to be popular or make money. Are those not beautiful ideas? The only problem is now liking something obscure gives you a weird sense of credit. Maybe not popularity, but it makes you seem like you are more knowledgeable about art/books/music/movies and that can motivate you more than just what you like. I think this just shows a lot of interesting stuff about what desires motivate humans. The desire for respect, belonging, and enjoyment and how these three things can sometimes conflict. It is just interesting.

Reading the Bible

I'm sitting on the front steps watching the wind dance through the trees. Listening to the leaves joining in. My  own hair tries to dance off my head. It is a beautiful afternoon. My one hand is wrapped around a mug of tea soaking in the warmth on this cold October day. My other hand holds tight to a pen. There is a book laying open on my lap. It is a well read book with wrinkled pages covered in colorful markings. I haven't read it in months. I feel my stomach tighten the way it always does when I read this book because this book reminds me that I am not what I would like to be someday. There is a light I can sometimes see, dim though it often shines in this dark world of mine, and I want to see more of that light in me, but the darkness of the world crowds its way into my heart and I'm growing weary of the endless days of monotonous pain for the way things are and the way they could be. I want to close the book and put it away because it hurts too much, but it stays open. Where is that neighbour's cat when I need a hug? My eyes are on the page although my mind is racing around in circles. Something causes me to pause. "Abide in my love." It sounds simple enough. Cut through the pain and the worry and take it back to what I think it was meant to be all along. But how do I do it? Can I drink it in the way I do the warmth and comfort of a mug of tea. Can I sit inside it like a windy day? Letting the beauty of it all change me. The way I enter the house more thankful and at peace after a long walk in the woods. I still do not understand. But I am not done with this book just yet.

OH THE MYSTERY! (Laurissa Discusses Books #2 - The Hound of The Baskervilles)

I just finished reading The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, which is the first Sherlock Holmes novel I have ever read. I haven't actually read very many mystery books of any sort at all. In fact I think the only mystery novels I have read (not including the children's mystery books that I read growing up) are a couple of the ones by Canadian author Louise Penny which are set in a small Quebec town and future detective Armand Gamache. The mystery for me is why is this such a compelling genre for so many readers and, similarly, why are crime shows like Sherlock, CSI, Bones, and Castle so popular on T.V.? I don't like this genre very much because I read, and watch T.V., for two things. First I read for characters. I want books, T.V., and movies with characters that I can fall in love with and think of as friends. Second, I read for observations about humanity. I want books to remind me that I am not alone in experiencing what I am experiencing and to put the experiences I cannot express into words I can understand. I do not simply read to be entertained and I don't like books, like mysteries, that push me to read faster and faster keeping me from the enjoyable experience of rolling intriguing phrases around in my mind by forcing me to race to the end for answers to the mystery.  So if mystery isn't my thing, why does it appeal to so many other people?

Perhaps one reason is because of the challenge it provides. At the end of The Hound of The Baskervilles, Sherlock Holmes says that he had already basically figured out the case before he even left London and that he only left because he needed proof for the courts. Well, the readers were given almost all of the same information as Sherlock, and yet I definitely did not know what was happening until the very end. For some, more ambitious, readers though this possibility of being able to figure things out before they are revealed to you may present itself as an exciting challenge.

I think there must also be a certain attraction to the detectives. I have been told that the character of Sherlock has inspired the creation of T.V. characters like The Mentalist, Dr. Gregory House, and of course tons of adaptations of Sherlock Holmes himself including the currently popular BBC mini series version. What is so appealing to us about a not always nice, but really smart and perceptive man?

I was a little disappointed that the characters in the book were not quite as vibrant as those in the BBC mini series. I find that often, in books that are very plot orientated, the characters can become a little bland. This book definitely did a better job than some, though. It painted a confident, self assured Sherlock Holmes who didn't have much time to consider the needs and wants of those around him and a Watson who was somewhat anxious to gain Sherlock's approval. The duo kind of reminded my of the similar relationship between Iggy and Victoria on the web series spinoff of Frankenstein: Frankenstein M.D. I was also really intrigued by Lord Henry's character with his tendency towards hasty action, but I would have liked to see these and other characters flushed out a little bit more.

But back to why we would be attracted to someone like Sherlock Holmes and mystery detectives in general. Maybe it is as simple as the fact that in a world where so much does not make sense we find very appealing the idea of a man whose comprehension of the world around him is much more fine tuned than ours. In this way it is possible that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's novel says quite a lot about human nature even without the fancy existential commentary of some less plot driven and more philosophical novels.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO NEXT!

To be honest, I am struggling. I thought things would get better if I got a job. Then I would be able to be proud of myself for being a hard working human being and I would have less fear of the future because I would be able to not only pay all my monthly bills, but also add to my savings so I could push the possibility of homelessness even farther into the future. However, since I got two part time jobs cooking and cleaning my life has settled into a rather drab monotony underlined by the ever present panic that comes with not knowing what to do next. I know I want to move back home, because I desperately want to spend more time with my family, but the job market is really bad there - even worse than it is where I am now. I know that, logically, I should get myself a steady career so I can alleviate some of my future financial woes. However, there are no careers readily available in today's economy which follow naturally from my current degree even allowing for the possibility of post graduate education. If I did choose to take a post grad degree in, say, teaching I would probably have to move far away to get a job and one of the few things I know for certain right now is that I love and miss my family, so I'm not down with that. I could go to college, or something, but I would be a little ashamed. It would feel like admitting that I wasted a lot of money on the wrong undergrad and I just don't think I did. It may not have lead to a career, but it was extremely formative, entertaining, interesting, informational, educational, challenging, enjoyable, and helpful. I don't regret it for a second. It also opened up a lot of amazing opportunities for me that have greatly impacted my life, but I can't help but wonder if it was a selfish use of my money even though I spent a lot of time volunteering during my B.A. in an effort to give back to the universe. Even if I were to get over the shame of going to college I wouldn't know what to take. This time around I want to be confident in my choice of career to make sure I waste no more money. I just am not confident in any career enough to go back to school just yet. The worst part is knowing that I am not alone in this. It is nice in that it alleviates some of the shame, but it makes me worry that - if so many people are still struggling to find direction, I may never find any. Sorry this was an obvious, sad, and useless post, but I needed to get it off my chest.

A Review of "A Complicated Kindness."

I have been trying to get back into reading again. It is hard because I have been rather sad and unmotivated lately without school. School stressed me out, but it kept me moving and it brought me alive because it meant that I always had something to think about.  I thought it might help if, instead of merely reading, I let myself write about what I read. This time, however, I will not be striving to sound academic. I will be honest. I will say what I really want to say about books. They may not be intelligent observations, but they will be from the heart.

It seems obvious to start with my favourite book, A Complicated Kindness by Miriam Toews. If you know me well, then you have probably heard me mention this book quite a few times. I don't bring it up early as much as I would like to because I don't want to accidently encourage people to read it. I DESPISE suggesting things because I'm always afraid that people will end up hating whatever I suggested and will then get mad at me for a bad suggestion. In this post then, I will show both what I love about the book and what one could possibly dislike so that I can't get blamed for an overly rosy review.

I love this book, though, it means a lot to me and has spoken to me in different ways at different times, although I have actually only read it twice. I'm not a big fan of re-reading books. I read it for the first time when I was 14 and re-read it this year for a class. In this post I will be explaining how my relationship to the story changed the second time I read it.

Quick Summary Sans Spoilers: It is the story of a teenager in a Mennonite community who struggles with romance, family, and her relationship with the local church.

 The first time I read it I was 14 years old. I was in the second semester of grade nine. It was my first year in public school after being homeschooled my whole life. I was struggling to make friends and people made fun of me because I was such an ignorant good girl. I found this book on the coffee table in my living room. I picked it up because it had won Canada Reads (which is a literary contest I loved listening to on the radio). I loved it because it had references to sex and drugs, two things that I had been seriously sheltered from, up until then and I thought that reading it meant that I was a more street wise person who would be harder to make fun of. I brought it to school and read it in front of my classmates, hoping they would realise they had been mistaken in their judgment of me. Unfortunately, it made no impact because  none of them had heard of it. Reading it now I laugh at my 14 year old self because it is a lot more tame then some of the stuff I had to read for university. I also love how it is realistic in its portrayal of these things. It doesn't make them seem shiny and exciting but, to a degree, pulls the curtain off their cultural hype.

Another reason why I related to this story, back in the day, is because when I was 14 I was already struggling with the question of "what do I believe about God?" and  already had accumulated a lot of anger towards church. I could relate to Naomi's frustration with her Mennonite community and her rejection of religion the way it was portrayed in her community. What I didn't catch until the second time I read it was Naomi's love for her community and empathy for even the worst of characters. Now that I am older I am starting to understand that  anger is extremely complicated. Often, the people who hurt you are also the people you love and who love you and are also the people you have hurt because often the ones who hurt are also hurting. Reading it the first time I felt like a rebel for reading something that so openly expressed my own frustrations with the church. The second time, I loved it for its beautiful recognition of the complexity of life.

The third reason I love this book is for its poignant portrayal of Naomi's relationship with her dad. When I was four years old I told my mom I wasn't sure if I loved her because I didn't understand what love was, and I have been obsessed with the topic ever since. I loved that this book portrayed a love other than romance and I loved how awkward it was because this shows a sincerity you don't seen much of these days. This is something that means even more to me now that my father has died shattering my picture perfect family and forcing me to learn what it means to love broken people and acknowledge my own brokenness. I was so hung up on this aspect of the book, when I was 14, that I was convinced that this is what the title was about. I ignored the final paragraph and I clung to the better story that Naomi talks about because I wanted her family to be together again as much as she did and I resisted an interpretation of the text that involved forgiving and loving the town. What I would like to say to anyone who feels that the story is hopeless is that it is all up to a) how you interpret the end and b) your definition of hope. Also, I just love that it is realistic. To anyone who complains because nothing happens, I think plenty happens but not in a shiny, shiny, bam, bam kind of way. Think of it as a portrait of humanity. If that's not your thing, then maybe don't bother. This year I was walking down the street with a classmate who had also read this book and knew that I loved it. He didn't like the book because nothing happened in it. He told me that he understood that I loved it, though, because he figured I could relate to the characters better than he could. "I've never really known pain." He told me. That makes sense, I read not to be entertained, but to know that I am not alone struggling through this crazy thing called life and that is why I love this book so much.

The importance of self reflection and questions about forgiveness.

Socrates famously said that "the unexamined life is not worth living." I can't tell you why this makes sense to me, but it has always resonated with me. When I get busy just living and don't have time to examine my life I feel disconnected from myself and lost within my own skin, whatever that even means. It feels like for so long I have been super focused on concrete things like graduate, work for the summer, find a job, and figure out what  I want to do next year. It has bee a long time since I've had a chance to, oh  I don't know, get in touch with myself. I think that sometimes we believe things that are supposed to have a major impact on our lives but we get so busy living just to survive (work, cook, eat, sleep, buy groceries, do laundry, repeat) that we can forget even the most important things. Sometimes I need to remind myself about what I believe. One of my core beliefs is that forgiveness is an essential part of life. See I believe that humans in general are less than stellar and that if we want to be forgiven, loved, and accepted as we are, then we need to forgive. Now I also believe that all people should strive to be a little more stellar. As Jack Layton said "My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we'll change the world." I have always thought that this was a little too much to ask of myself so I ask for God to help me be loving, hopeful and optimistic and that, for me, is an up hill battle, but what happens when someone else isn't loving? We want to fight all the bad in the world, but if we get mad at someone for not being loving we ourselves are not being loving. How do we love and forgive someone who isn't being loving without condoning their actions and while encouraging them to change? How do we forgive someone when we are still hurting and angry? I don't have the answers just as I don't know how to wake up and be hopeful and optimistic when I'm struggling with fear and despair. All I know is how I want to be and sometimes I lose sight of that because I get so caught up in trying to stay alive. I don't know how to achieve my goals, I only know that a teeny tiny part of me needs to hold onto the hope that there is an answer to these questions or I'll give into despair and anger and all hope will be lost. I do believe we should be allowed to safely and lovingly express some sadness and anger to stay healthy and not bottle things up, but I don't want to give into these things completely and I don't know how to strike that balance.