yoga and weight-loss, worth a shot?

Yoga Journal had a very interesting article about weight loss and yoga. I have read at least 3 separate mentions of this in other fitness magazines in light of a study that was recently completed. I'm writing this article in my living room and the fitness magazines are upstairs otherwise I would give you more detail (who authored the study, how many participants were involved yadda yadda yadda). The point is, the study was about the correlation between yoga and weight loss. I tend to be kind of old-fashioned when it comes to weight-loss. I believe in big scary deadlines (Costa Rica in two weeks) lots of salad and hours strapped to the treadmill.

Past experience dictates, (as does the experience of many others) that this kind of yo-yo weight-gain and loss combined with miserable crankiness (I have to be fed every 3 hours or I'm unbearable to be around) makes this kind of thing unmaintainable.

The solution for many could be yoga. I know, yoga is not the first thing that comes to mind when you think of weight loss. The ginormous stack of magazines on my bedroom floor would urge me to run, swim, eliptical (which is, as far as I can tell some evil made up exercise) do kick boxing, join the army, really anything for weight loss but yoga. Don't get me wrong, they always advocate yoga to de-stress, manage sore muscles and generally be as healthy as possible, but to suggest that yoga could help with weight loss or weight maintenance seems to be relatively new in the yoga dialogue.

Go to a yoga class and you cannot help but wonder why. Pre-injury I remember visiting and trying out some studios and I was absolutely flabbergasted looking at the lithe and fit bodies around me. Ultimately this makes sense, these people were clearly regular practitioners and regular practitioners seem to have a sort consciousness that wouldn't allow for mindless snacking in front of the TV, or emotionally downing a pint of ice cream after a rough day (or 4 drinks for that matter).

However, part of me is also going to raise my eyebrows in skepticism a little bit. Yes the Yoga Journal issue featured a personal story about one woman's struggle with her weight and how yoga helped her overcome it, but I wonder if this article, or even if the study it was sort of based on considered certain socio-economic factors that could be at play. In my search for the perfect yoga studio, with varied class times and affordable monthly membership I inevitably noticed once again how classist good health can be in North America.

The average cost for monthly membership at yoga studio in Toronto based on my little Internet shopping excursion was around 100$ for a student. To me that is almost totally unaffordable and I come from an upper-middle class family, I live at home and I earn around 600 a month. Even with all of the charitable and not-for-profit organizations oriented around yoga out there, it is simply not accessible to a huge chunk of North America's population.

Furthermore, we know that the wealthier tend to be better informed about health, often because they have the luxury to spend more time and money on their health (and if you didn't know I highly recommend that you read something by Michael Pollan). Because of these reasons I tend to be more then a little suspect when a study announces that yogis lose weight because of body acceptance and increased self-awareness.

All that said, I have found yoga to be beneficial in terms of weight management and my health has certainly been affected by my forced sabbatical.

What am I supposed to do?

I'm sorry I've been gone. I've had a cold so I've been feeling sorry for myself and watching a lot of the Food Network. I've been thinking a bunch too. One of my favourite days of the month has become when I find the latest issue of Yoga Journal and they had a very insightful aspect about balancing these four aspects of your life. I couldn't even think about the other three however because I'm totally hung up on the first aspect, dharma. Dharma is duty in yoga. It is your job, your duty to your family and your community and following your life's purpose. In terms of my job, I'm a student which is going fine, I'm a research assistant, I lag a bit in that department and I'm a lifeguard and since no one has drowned on my watch I think that's going ok. But am I serving the world the way I'm supposed to? Am I serving my community? Am I working towards my life's purpose? These are such deep questions and my answer is unfortunately, heck if I know!

I know the things I like, but I cannot differentiate between those that are my life's purpose and those that are my passion (what I do for fun). I love politics but sometimes the vast unfixability (yes I know I made that up) of the world can overwhelm me and intimidate me. Sometimes when I read about the catastrophe that is Haiti, or Somalia or even the Reservation system in Canada I just want to curl up in a little ball with a romance novel and pretend the world outside doesn't exist.

Instead what I'm going to try doing is taking a deep breath and working a little closer to home. I want to volunteer at this community centre that I heard about where they grow most of their own food and have an after school cooking program. I want to open a farmer's market at my school (there's an ambitious project!) and change the world a little bit through food.

Yoga off the mat and on the dinner table

So I would be lying if I said that I have not shifted the purpose of this blog a little bit. My intention, to do one fearless thing a day, or week, or even a month hasn't really happened. I'm still terrified of talking to strangers (blame it on being told from childhood that its a bad idea), I still seem to be pretty much convinced that I'm not going to succeed at anything that I really like. In spite of my anxieties and my neuroticisms (that's not really a word, I invented it, you're welcome Freud) I'm happy about a lot of things, I like my classes, I like my job in theory, I like my friends though I don't see enough of them and I'm enjoying delving into the world of yoga. Don't get me wrong, I plan to take that cooking class, go on that yoga retreat, and talk to more guys (because really, that's what this is all about) and finally trust myself enough in crane pose tha I can hold it for longer then half a second, but I'm 21 it's ok that I cant do all of these things yet.

The direction of this blog seems to have taken a sort of yogic turn, maybe you noticed, maybe I noticed you noticing. Well, the reason is because anything that makes people happy, serene, content and uplifted, that provides answers to life's hardest questions, that helps people find answers to life's hardest questions and that gently suggests a way of living that makes you say "If everyone lived this way the world would be a much better place" is something that I want to talk about.

Now as I mentioned previously, I injured myself last month. It really cramped my style or threw out my groove or whatever young cats are saying these days. So what could I do? I don't really have a lot of experience meditating, I have a true (as Buddhists say) monkey mind. I'm not a vegan and am currently serving the greater good by getting my degree political science or, as I have started calling it, understanding the world. I always feel as though I should be doing more however. So taking advantage of my winter holidays I have been studying up on mindful or ethical eating. By ethical, just so we're clear, I'm not suggesting vegetarian or vegan (though most serious students of yoga eventually follow that path) however since I'm relatively new to the world of yoga let me suggest a smaller step. Eat local. What does local mean? The definition varies, however the first people to really bring this issue to the forefront (authors of the 100 Mile Diet) suggest a limit of 100 miles. This is tough and it is unrealistic for your diet to comprise of 100% 100 mile food, (especially during the winter) however, if you do you're best you will find yourself cutting down on packaged foods, meeting the farmers who grew your food, eating pesticide and artificial fertilizer free food and (if you can afford it) eating happier and healthier meat. The health benefits of eating this way can be enormous. You enjoy a more varied seasonal diet, many people have reported weightloss, they have reported being satisfied by their food more easily and of course there are the social benifits (think of the time you can spend at the farmer's market with your family, and think of the pride your kids will have in opening up a jar of jam that they helped make the summer before). In short, veganism is a big step and it isn't right for everyone (I'm talking to you anemics) but there is no reason why we can't all be a litle more aware of where our food comes from.

More to follow on this later!

Asana on Hold

I am frustrated beyond measure. Why? Because I fell off my mat (the yoga wagon if you will) quite literally. Before I fell let me explain the appeal yoga has for me. In a phrase, I like how there is no such thing as a perfect yogi/ni. Every other thing I do is something that I feel that I should excel in. If I fall short of being a perfect daughter, being a great friend, being an amazing student (and I inevitably do) it's really quite heartbreaking. Yoga has always been something different however. Just touching my toes felt like an accomplishment after years of tight hamstrings. To feel downward dog change from a struggle to a wonderful stretch was a joy. As my core grew stronger I could hold tree pose for longer. I had all the wonder and enthusiasm of a new yogini. So I started to branch out. Anyone with the privilege of living in one of Canada's major urban centers has access to something called passport to prana, which is a pass that, for a nominal fee gets you a free class at over 30 different studios around Toronto.

So there I was, happily branching out. Being adventurous, trying out different studios, different styles, different teachers when one day I fell off my mat. I was tired, it was a vinyasa class and everyone there was far more advanced then I was. Rather then focusing on my own practice, listening to what my body needed and trying to stay present I did exactly what I was avoiding. I started pushing myself, not just trying to keep up but trying to prove that I belonged there at this ritzy studio catering to blond, fit stay at home moms with their six-packs. (In my defense, the teacher did not encourage us to take a moment and reconnect but she pushed us harder then I had ever been pushed before.) So there I was, near the end of the practice doing one final vinyasa, and as I rolled over my toes and pushed myself back into downward dog, I felt an enormous wrench, as though my knee had suddenly turned around to face the back, and as I fell down, in excruciating pain and put my hand on my knee, I realized that that was exactly what had happened (actually my knee cap had dislocated itself and was now on the outside of my leg).

I saw a physiotherapist and she said the one thing I was the most scared of hearing: don't go back to yoga just yet. Get that knee healthy first. So I heaved a big sigh and acquiesced.

Bikram vs Laura

Conventional yoga wisdom says that if there is a pose or posture that you ABSOLUTELY detest, you should do it more often. Case in point, in your standard vinyasa (flow) practice you could do downward dog anywhere from 10-20 times. Most people hate their first downward dog of the day, it strains their wrists (which are stiff from typing and writing) it stretches your hamstrings uncomfortably (as they are used to sitting), it makes your arms and shoulders burn until you adjust to put more weight into your legs. The second downward dog however, feels a little easier, on top of that, it stretches your back wonderfully. You may take advantage of your second one to work your legs up and down to help loosen up your hamstrings, or maybe you'll wiggle your hips side to side to relax the tension in your lower back and enjoy as each inhale expands your ribs. By the time you do your last downward dog of the day I swear you will feel as though your vertebrae have all been stretched out a couple of millimeters and any tension in your back is gone. You love downward dog, you can't remember not loving it, but you did. The whole process will start again next class.

So, like I said, conventional yoga wisdom dictates that the poses you hate are the ones you should be doing, but what about styles of yoga? Should you do the one that you hate the most? On Sunday I blithely signed up for 10 days of unlimited bikram yoga at the studio near my house. I figured the heat (bikram is done at 40 degrees Celsius) would be nice, it would help with my flexibility and clear up my skin. I knew that they only did 26 poses over a 90 minute class so I figured it would help me work on my fundamentals.

I have only done two classes and already I hate it.

Firstly, I have learned that I'm not really a heat kind of person, I seem to be all about more temperate climes. I do not enjoy the sensation of sweat dripping down my face and body in tiny rivulets. I do not enjoy the sight of my beet red gasping face in the mirror. Gone is the elegance of yoga, gone is a half lotus pose or an upward dog (they don't do any of the "dogs" in bikram) of which I could be proud. Instead I was surrounded by thinner darkly complected women who's faces flushed prettily and who could hold the poses astoundingly well even though their limbs (like mine) were slicked with sweat.

I also did not enjoy the near constant feeling of nausea that lasted the duration of the practice. These days, in my other yoga classes, I don't have to go down into child's pose (or recovery pose) unless our instructor tells us to. In bikram I felt as though I could happily spend most of the practice lying on the ground, trying to breath that thick, hot uncomfortable air.

In terms of flexibility, it certainly made me more flexible but at what a price. I am so sore today lifting a laptop strains my forearms and climbing a flight of stairs virtually sucks my energy away.

Of course, when I'm not struggling I'm kind of bored with the lack of variety in the postures as well.

So the question is, if I hate it should I keep it up? Is it worth the misery?

The Pursuit of Happiness

Before I made the suggestion of a year long project based on self-help books, I naively thought that it would be encompassing a much smaller field. But no. It is huge, there is self-help in the kitchen, self-help (swimming) stroke improvement, self-help self hypnosis. The list is quite long. So yeah, what kind of self-help do I need? And also what makes these people experts? What is the qualification? As far as I can tell its living a good life.

It's interesting though isn't it? It's been enshrined in the American Declaration of Independence (I think, I'm nothing if not wilfully indifferent to everything grand and wonderful about American politics so please don't quote me) that the pursuit of happiness was a fundamental right. In fairness since this was heavily inspired by Locke who was a raging libertarian capitalist if I ever saw one, the pursuit of happiness was probably tied into the accumulation of wealth (not much has changed eh?)

So yes, this is how we work in North America, we go to therapists, we read self-help (or magazines which are kind of mini, much more shallow self-help books), we take up yoga and we try and find a job that we don't absolutely detest.

Well that was depressing...

So yeah, anyway I'm pretty sure happiness for me lies some place in France, some place with good food, darkly good looking men, amazing wine and picturesque bicycle rides through the countryside while I look adorably bohemian in torn jeans comfy sandals and some kind of stripey, vaguely french t-shirt. Or maybe happiness for me is in a bakery, eating croissants and sipping a creme. Either way I know it's there, not here. So let's make the best of a situation, of the difficulty of being born on the wrong continent let alone the wrong country and see what people who are much older, wiser and in the possession of more degrees then me have to say about improving my life.

Self-help

My goodness, what an evocative term. It is a word that is just full of potential. It's up there with "Home-made chocolate". "Naked Male Models" and world peace. I went to my happy place today (well one of them anyway) I went to the book store. Now, I love looking at the new and hot fiction, I love looking at the cook-books, I love looking at the snazzy stationary that I AM NOT ALLOWED TO BUY UNTIL I USE ALL MY OTHER NOTEBOOKS, NOT EVEN IF ITS SUPER PRETTY.

Whew.

I also, (I confess) have a weakness for the self-help section. Why? Who knows, I'm sure its connected with my deep-lying perfecionist tendancies which are my main barriers against success and happiness. I'm sure it also has something to do with my love of books and my general admiration for the Published. My admiration is child-like and naive considering how many truly shitty books there are out there, nonetheless I continue to assume that if someone is smart enough to write a book they absolutely must be smart enough to fix my life and all my stupid little anxieties and woes which, when added up are nearly crippling and are certainly suffocating (at times anyway).

So... I had an idea. There are quite a few famous blog projects out there (and quite a few obscure ones I'm sure) Living Oprah comes to mind, the premise being that the author spent an entire year following Oprah's advice on everyone of her shows. She did this I think mainly to hold Oprah accountable for her frequent contradictions and her encouragement of rampant counsumerism amongst her housewife devotees. Another one had to do with following magazine advice I believe, and the most famous of all has a movie based on it (Julie & Julia). So, here's my wild and weird and abstract thought. I am a rampant perfectionist who is absolutely immobilized by stupid little fears, if anyone could benifit from self-help it's me. The theory being that my problems are not so grave so as to require psychiatric help (though I do enjoy making use of the school's counselling centre occasionally) but nor are they so minimal that I can ignore them. In my own wildly biased and unprofessional assessment of myself, I think I am the perfect candidate. So what I'm thinking is 26 books over the course of a year (1 every 2 weeks) follow their advice to a T and hope for the best!

So, I need to decide a couple of things:

• How do I select the books? Alphabetically? At random? As around and see what other people have used?
• What constitutes as self-help? Is it purely psychological? What about "lifestyle" books that incorporate health and wellness as well?
• What about relationship and love advice? Or should it be purely me?

So what do you guys think? Fun project no? PLEASE let me know your thoughts (I've noticed a distinct lack of commenting going on these days, way too much lurking folks.)

Anyway, let me know loves!

De-junking

Ok.. I have a confession to make. Are you ready? (deep breath) I Laura Scrivener, am a hoarder. Ok. I feel better now. Let me explain a little. It's not as bad as it sounds. I will not be on a reality tv show any time soon. It's not like you can't move through my room because it is full of mountains of crap that have cockroaches, mice, the occasional squirrel and maybe the odd squatter living under them. No, my problem is not nearly that bad. In fact, I think my problem stems from idealism or romanticism if you will. Take a notebook for example. A brand new, notebook with a pretty picture on the cover, maybe it's a picture of Ganesh a Hindu god with an elephant for a head. Or perhaps its a picture with a fairy on the cover, with a misty ship sailing to the moon, and nymphs frolicking in a pond. Or perhaps it is a plain leather bound "serious" looking notebook. It doesn't matter what kind it is because I can pretty much guarantee that I will love it. I love page one. I love the newness of it. Here is a notebook ripe with potential. I could pen a best-selling novel, write an awe-inspiring speech, plan out a business idea, sketch out witty little thoughts, write a poem, take down my favourite quotes from a book, scribble down future Mr. Fearless's number, the possibilities are endless.

Bags are another favourite. A bag as far as I'm concerned is an excellent friend. A bag will never make you look fat. A bag, can hold your life. A bag will still love you no matter what you spill in it. A bag, in short is the perfect, nay, the ultimate accessory. However, there is no denying the fact that I have too many. The problem lies in the fact that I have three go-to bags that I use ALL the time, and the rest are lucky if they ever see the light of day, I mean, why mess with perfection?

Ok, so I've justified my bad behaviour for you guys, very unconvincingly I'm sure. But, I have decided to solve it. Everything that I have too much of and am not currently using will be gone by the new year. I have decided to have a get rid of all the crap in my life party. A radical notion I know. Actually I believe if it is commonly referred to as a garage sale. The catch is that I won't be charging. Nope it'll be a good old swapping party but without the swapping, more giving. I couldn't be more excited!

I thought I was finished..

I stopped writing because I though I had said everything I needed to say. I'm sort of at a stalemate. My job is wonderfully predicable and meaningless. I hate writing papers and reading reviews as I don't see anything earth shattering in writing about a preassigned topic. I snap at my parents and my sister. I desperately want to smack the lady in yoga who moans every time we do a particularly effective stretch. My eczema is driving me up the wall. I'm finding far too much solace in McDonalds. I dyed my hair brown just to escape the monotony of it all.

To make matters worse, everything I learn depresses me these days. Political science used to excite me. I loved the intricacies of power. I believed with absolute certainty in democracy, government regulated capitalism, a welfare state, and all those other good Canadian values, but now I'm not so sure. I get lots of questions, we discuss almost constantly the way the government's gone wrong the bad things Western states have done to the rest of the world. It's wildly depressing because, no matter how often we discuss what went wrong, we have yet o discuss what the answer is.

Maybe I'm not finished. Maybe I still have more questions to answer, I definitely have a rut to climb out of. Wish me luck!

I'll let you know.

shout out

I would like to take a moment to shout out to a fellow (totally awesome) Canadian. His name is Chuck Hughes and he is a chef (excuse me, cook) in Montreal. I have yet to eat at his restaurant but I LOVE his show. His cooking style seems to be the getting back to basics, unpretentious (with a few suprising twists) style that is just so in today. You don't have to dress up to eat there but you know you're going to be fed something pretty special. On top of that, the guy is totally smokin'. If you haven't heard of him I emplore you, check out his show, you won't be sorry.

Sometimes I don't even know what to do

I could really use some advice. Rarely do I have a problem with shit friends. I'm pretty selective with my friendships, if acquaintances don't become friends I drop them. As a result I'm close with my friends, value them and try to go the extra mile. It pisses me off when I don't get the same. I spent two months of summer hanging out with a girl I'll call Y every week. (More frequently then I see some older friends) I brought her to my club on Toronto Island, taught her how to cook stuff and we hung out with her friends and generally had fun. After she visited her bf in Cali for a week I haven't heard from her since aside for a quick phone call and a couple of fbook messages, just saying she was busy. So yeah its kind of the cranky bit of my general excitement about school, hot TAs, clubs, newspaper articles to write etc. I would let it go I think... but she has my favourite bronzer and its like the insult to injury. How would you solve this?

I'm sorry...

I fail... It's kind of hard to maintain this right now because of the way I feel when I come home from class. I feel tired, drained, frustrated, anxious and nervous. There's a lot riding on this year. It's my opportunity to make up for my screw-ups of first year and second year. On top of that I have the added stresses of paying off a ridiculous credit card debt, eating healthy and just making sure that I take good care of myself. I try to see my friends as regularly as possible and my family provides eternal comfort to me, but that doesn't take away from the fact that this is my make it or break it year.

My course-load is obscene but I'm excited to be in the process of wrapping it all up and getting out into the real world. I'm lifeguarding, working for my professor, trying to do pilates, yoga or swim every day and trying desperately hard not to get too bummed out about the weather. Most of September has been beautiful, which is certainly what we deserve after such a crummy summer but not today. Today is a hot chocolate and a good novel kind of day, not a 9:30 tutorial and a 2:30 lecture followed by a 7pm pilates class kind of day.

Just to add to my irritability, my dear friend (so I thought) who I spent most of June and July hanging out with is now too busy to even see me for coffee. I haven't seen her for two months and I now suspect that the reason for this is that she doesn't want to give me back the bronzer I lent her... People! It's enough to make you a miser.

Things will get better though. The sun will come out, the leaves will turn. I'll get to wear my chunky sweaters and knee high leather boots. It will be the season of soups and pies and stews. Thanksgiving is coming up in another couple of weeks. Followed by Halloween (inicidentally one of my least favourite holidays) a dreary month and a half, then the first snowfall, the hustle-bustle of Christmas shopping. A friendly family baking rivalry, Christmas decoration overkill and 4 or 5 Christmas cds on rotation. I can hardly wait.

the bird

Two days ago, a house finch smashed into our window. I yelled downstairs to my dad that this one was still alive so he came up and picked it up off our deck as it fluttered weakly. He cupped it in his hands then gave it to me since he had work to do but he didn't want it to die. "If you keep it in a warm dark place" (he meant my hands) "until it's ready to fly away, it'll probably live." I didn't really have anything pressing to do so I cupped my hands under his and he carefully slid his big hands out from underneath those teeny claws. I put one hand over it and I sat down on a deck chair holding this warm little scrap of life carefully in my hands, sheltering it from the world. I could feel it shivering and shaking, still in shock. I could feel its tiny beak against the tip of one of my fingers as it panted. I could feel its unbelievably soft little body producing an amazing amount of heat as I sat outside on that perfectly still morning while the sun shone and other birds sang and flitted through our garden. Finally, after a good ten minutes of this strange situation, the bird began to flutter and beat its wings wildly. Bemusedly, I opened my hands and watched it fly away, grateful that I got to hold that one little bird.

Incidentally, birds play a special role in my family. It is a love and a fascination that my father has always tried to share with us. He loves his little song birds, his thrushes, his downy woodpeckers and his hawks and ospreys and such. This is not the first time that I've saved a bird for him, nor will it be the last. I suspect that in imparting this love and admiration for his (excuse me) feathery friends, he has also imparted his deep respect for nature and his sense of stewardship towards the environment.

"you keep biting heads off of gummy bears and screaming 'euthanized'"

I've been gone for a while, and I loved it. No offense folks. But no internet, no newspapers, the occasional One Tree Hill episode plus lots of good thick novels is about as close as you come to paradise you know. It was wonderful too, to find out who my real friends were. The people who called me and who didn't ignore my conspicuous absence from the technological world. I felt overcome several times, to write, be it on this site or in my plethora of notebooks but I just couldn't bring myself to do it without my computer.

Plus, I'm a little apprehensive. I want to know whether or not I should even bother anymore. Do I have anything really and truly worth contributing the blogosphere? It doesn't always feel like I do I must confess. Some people have the most interesting struggles, lives, loves and observations. Besides that what do I have to offer aside from my own anxieties, cynicism and a certain love of life that this blogging adventure has helped me cultivate.

Reading other people's blogs has made me realize how far I have to go and how much I have to appreciate. My break made me realize that in some ways this whole blog thing is overrated. But it lets me write, ramble and rant, and occasionally, when I'm very lucky, get some feedback.

There's more of what's been going on to follow.

sorry I've been gone

It's been so long... I feel terribly guilty. A few things have kept me tied up, school, my new job... the Twilight series. Ok I'm pretty embarrassed about the last one. I;m sorry that I abandoned you guys for twilight. Twilight is kind of liek a certain kind of candy that I love once I start I just can't stop. The writing was awful, the couple was absolutely nauseating... (I really think she picked the wrong guy) but once you start, how do you stop right?

Everything slipped up while I was reading those books. I worked half-heartedly, I couldn't bring myself to exercise or do the laundry, I didn't want to see my friends until I was finished. I tend to avoid books like that because I don't want to be sucked in. I've avoided anything gossip girl, though I did read shopaholic and the devil wears prada. It feels so good to be bad.

Part of the intriguing part for me is the fact that, I almost feel like I could right one. A certain degree of believability is required for these books coupled with some humour and and a few anecdote type stories.

But I also have to wonder, hopefully without sounding too pretentious, whether or not these people feel bad writing their flaky stories, with no meaning except to entertain. There are thousands of books writen and published every year, but how many of them will go down in history or be remembered as works of importance and influence. They're probably more widely read than any great literary achievement, but does that mean that they will be what is remembered as opposed to what has been acclaimed?

It's interesting isn't it? To speculate on what aspects of our culture will survive. Will we be remembered by Kanye music and gossip girl (or Harry Potter for that matter) or will it be the so called geniuses who survive?

it looks like I'm working less then 30 hours this summer

a 30 hour work week! I'm so friggin excited. So what should I do with my time? I couldnt find any classes I wanted to take. I want to volunteer, take new gym classes... you know, all that jazz.

something I've been thinking about...

I don't know why this has been bugging me, perhaps its because of my american politics class. After all this is no longer a political issue. SO, here's the thing. I want to live in a world without abortion. Ok, I can hear the gasps and sighs of dismay... but bear with me. I don't mean I want to live in a world where abortion is inaccessible. On the contrary, I think it should continue to be as accessible as it currently is in Canada.

I want to live in a world where contraception is affordable. Where girls can protect themselves without their parents permission. I want to live in a world where sex is always consensual. I want to live in a world with virtually no birth defects. I want to live in a world where every single baby is wanted and recognized for the blessing it is.

Abortion should always be an option. In an ideal world, no one would want or need to choose it.

pot fun facts

Fact: Canadians have the second highest percentage of pot smokers (after Holland) in the world.
Fact: Canada came this close to legalizing the stuff.
Fact: The best stuff comes from BC.

Can we please, as a nation, accept the fact that it's about as bad or as good as booze, a heck of a lot better then cigarettes and, unless your planning to fine 45% of Canadians (or throw them in jail) we should just make the stuff legal (and tax it)?

I'm not saying I use or don't use. I'm just saying that this is getting silly. Now don't just decriminalize it. Legalize it. In the same way that it seems strange that people can kill themselves with two packs a day but can't enjoy the occasional spliff (which has as much tar as 3 cigarettes and young people who smoke weed regularly triple their chances of adult onset schizophrenia) and in the same way that a man can pay a woman to take her clothes off, can purchase dvds of other people having sex but cannot pay someone to have sex with him (or a woman for that matter). It really just boggles my mind what sins are legal and what sins aren't. I get why heroine and crack are illegal, that makes sense, but weed... weed will always baffle me.

Ah me, what to do...

So folks, this post is going to be pretty random. Here's a list of things I want to cover:

-School! Almost done!

-Some musings about how delicious May is.

-A recipe, a very delicious recipe from http://www.orangette.blogspot.com/

-Some pictures illustrating the deliciousness of May.

-My stupid procrastination/fear of failure thing.

-My occasionally frstrating lack of direction.

-Have any of you attempted writing a book or a short story lately? Because I would like to get back in to the swing. But I don't know how.

First thing is first. I'm almost done school, I have take home exams to submit (that I should have already submitted) one more exam to write and a decision to make about summer school (i.e. do I want to ruin my summer and graduate faster?) All things considered, given my crazy anxiety over school and thus my tendancy to pretend that the work isn't there, things haven't been going so badly. Whenever I feel even slightly compelled to goof off, I do one of two things: 1) goof off

2) bust out the ol' therapy journal and do some exercises.

Thats right folks, pre-emptive measures. Are you proud? Because I am!

May is awesome. It is quite simply my favourite month of the year. It's not too hot, not too cold, everything has flowers on it. I can wear pretty dresses. I can drink lemonade. Usually I'm finished school by now. I can spend my weekends lazing outdoors, reading some old english classic or some brainless chick lit. There's almost always a delicious breeze wafting, making the great big willow in our garden sway..... Ok so I haven't been outdoors in a while and I miss it, can you tell?

Here's some pictures!

K so the pictures totally threw my alignment out of wack.

Anyway...

Recipe time!

(cut and pasted from www.orangette.blogspot.com)

Banana Bread with Cinnamon Crumble Topping

Adapted from Bakesale Betty and Bon Appétit, September 2008

For bread:1 ½ cups all-purpose flour

1 cup sugar

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

1 tsp. baking soda

½ tsp. salt

1 cup mashed ripe banana (about 3 medium bananas)

2 large eggs

½ cup vegetable oil

¼ cup honey

¼ cup water

For topping:

2 Tbsp. sugar

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

2 ½ Tbsp. packed dark brown sugar

Preheat the oven to 350° F. Butter and flour a 9- x 5-inch metal loaf pan. (Alternatively, you can spray the pan lightly with cooking spray and then line it with parchment paper, letting the excess hang over the sides. That’s what I did, and it made it very easy to remove the finished bread from the pan; I just grabbed the parchment and lifted. Also, because I don’t have a 9- x 5-inch pan - and because an 8 ½- x 4 ½-inch is a little too small - I used a 10- x 3-inch pan that I found once at a flea market.)In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, cinnamon, baking soda, and salt. In a large bowl, whisk together the banana, eggs, oil, honey, and water. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, and stir well. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan.In a small bowl, mix together the topping ingredients. Sprinkle them evenly over the batter.Bake the bread until a tester inserted into its center comes out clean, about 1 hour, give or take a little. Cool the bread in the pan on a wire rack for 30 minutes. Then carefully remove the bread from the pan, taking care not to dislodge the topping. Cool completely before slicing.

Yield: 1 loaf

There you go folks. YUM

So uh... I'm in my third year of my bachelor's degree. So you could say I'm at a crossroads. I need to start thinking about my fourth year and what comes after which has been stressing the heck out of me! Grad school? Law school? Neither? Japan followed by backpacking through Asia, then a job in France followed by backpacking through Europe? Working for an NGO abroad? (NGO- Non-Government Organisation, think Doctors without borders). Sit down and write a book? Get on the political war path? Quit it all and open up a little bake shop like the girl in Stranger then Fiction? OH MAN!

Writing people, give me guidance! I've started a million plots, but then I get bogged down or lose interest or feel like I don't have time! I know that Nina over at Life's a Ficke Pickle manages to write short stories even with her hectic schedule, so really, do I have an excuse?

Thanks for listening folks. This is just some of the crazy bouncing around in my brain right now.

is it worth the frustration???

OH MY GOD!

There really are all types on dating sites. I mean, ok there are two ways of looking at this: 1) everyone on the site must be fucked up, since they're still single. 2) I'm on the site, I'm not fucked up. There must be a few good ones.

Ok I'm starting to think that I'm fucked up.

There are the needy, clingy, whiny guys who get all upset when I don't respond right away. I read a note from one guy and didn't get back to him for a couple of days who sent me another saying "I didn't like you that much anyway".

There are the profound assholes, who wear their badges of assholery with pride. They would stand on roof tops bellowing, "I'm an asshole, hear me roar. Look at how I got Douche tattooed across my upper back with really fancy calligraphy." Ladies, let me help you spot them: they say things like "I do whatever the fuck I want." in their profiles.

There are the guys who are just plain boring! Be it the nurse guy from a little while ago, the "handy man" (interestingly enough, his name was Dan) that I went out with a couple of weeks ago, were both very nice, woefully uninformed, and socially inept. Reader poll: should a university degree become one of my requirements? Or is that too snobby? Would it even protect me from people who don't know who Vladimir Putin is?

Oh and lets not forget "the pervs". Ok, I'm not talking about child molesters or rapists (though I'm sure those are out there too), I'm just talking about the ones who are way way WAY kinkier then me, and want to help me explore my kinky side. All very well and good, but folks, there are just some things that I DON'T want to do, not even try. I don't care if you're Brad Pitt (ok well maybe Brad), it just ain't gonna happen!

And of course, there are the guys that I like, who, unfortunately don't seem to like me back. Case in point: I never heard from the french guy again.

However, I'm going out with a nice, normal, funny, extra tall guy on Thursday. Fingers crossed everyone!

Also, triathlon training is in a slump already! This does not bode well.