White Folding Chairs

In white folding chairs, we begin.

Parents pace, and wonder.

In chairs made of metal and plastic.

In folding chairs that hurt our backs

We grow, we see, we learn

In chairs that define our place

In white folding chairs we succeed

Mentors celebrate and rejoice

The chairs that lead to our future

In chairs with arms and deadlines

We work and prioritize our lives

Chairs that demand of our time

With White folding chairs, we dance

And bind our two young souls

The chairs that waltz around us

In chairs of Oak, we plead

We bargain from every angle

The chairs that we don’t own

In white folding chairs, we wait

I pace, and I wonder

About the chairs that you grace.

In chairs of Leather and hair

We reflect upon the years

Chairs that will embrace us

In white folding chairs, I watch,

The tears soak my lashes

The chairs that take you away

White folding chairs. 

"We don't want to hire a girl."

Well, sexism is alive and well in 2011 and while most of you will scoff and say "Hells No" it's very much a reality.

I'm a lighting tech, a backline tech, I dabble in tour managing and assisting, and I'm also a merch girl. I have experience fixing and maintaining guitars, and if you asked me nicely, I could tune your drum kit. I'm good at what I do, I'm proud of what I do, and I love doing it.

Here's the catch. I'm a girl.

There was a 1 in 2 chance that I would be born a boy, and hell, it looks like i drew the short straw. Don't get me wrong, I love being a woman. It has its perks, but I chose to work in rock and roll, silly me, and in my case the drawbacks far outweigh the perks. It's hard.

It's really hard to be a woman in rock and roll, not because boys are smelly, not because it's hard work, or the gear is heavy, or any of those stupid things.

People judge me before they meet me. I can get fired from a job without having worked a day, or without even meeting the band. I can be denied opportunities and employment based soley on my gender. Despite my skills and professionalism I often will be sent to the bottom of the pile of candidates for almost any position in music. I have to work twice as hard to prove I'm as good as a male half as good as me.

If I'm even remotely loud or direct I apparently come off as a bitch, whereas a male counterpart is taking charge. If I talk to a male in another band or crew, I'm flirting not talking, and of course, I can't lift anything because my womanly arms aren't strong enough.

While at home, I work for a sound production company. Whenever I walk into a venue with my boss, the clients always assume he's my father. At first this struck me as odd, since he's still fairly young, and not quite old enough to be my dad. When I asked a client why they thought he was my father, they responded with "Well, why else would he have hired you." No joke.

I was able to spin the situation in my favour, and now I jokingly refer to my boss as Dad on a regular basis, and it actually helps keep the creepy roadies from hitting on me while I'm trying to work.

So, with the help of the internet, I have posted this list for all touring bands and managers that refuse to hire a girl on their crew.

1. I kick ass at my job, and I take pride in a job well done.

2. I don’t want to fuck you

3. I don’t want to fuck any of the band or crew

4. You can tell your wives/girlfriends that

5. I don’t care who you fuck

6. I don’t care who any of the band/crew fuck

7. I wont tell your wife/girlfriend THAT

8 . I leave my personal life at home.

9. I don’t need any more privacy on the bus than you do

10. I won’t cry if I can’t get a shower everyday

11. I won’t cry if there is no mirror on the bus

12. I wont turn into an evil bitch when I get my period (that’s YOUR girlfriend) and yes I can still do my job and you probably wouldn’t even know

13. I have seen dicks before

14. I know what groupies are there for (duh)

15. I have seen/heard about EVERY sexual act performed in the dressing room/back lounge

16. I have seen/heard EVERYTHING you think a woman shouldn’t know about "the boys club"

17. I am and can be "one of the boys" (in fact, I’m probably more of a dude than some of the band)

18. I like guys, but I’m here to work, not to flirt.

19. I’m perfectly capable of lifting things on my own. If I need help lifting something I’ll ask for it.

20. I am a HUMAN BEING.

Please add here any other things that would prevent you from hiring a woman.

My Dad Could Beat Up Your Dad

To many, "Hallmark Holidays" like Valentines Day and Administrative Assistants Day can get overlooked, and in some cases it may not be a detriment, but I know very few people who pass over Mothers Day as though it were an option. Phone calls are made, bouquets are bought, and little hands work furiously gluing on macaroni to household objects. Mothers Day is a biggie, everyone has one, whether she's a step-mom (mines awesome!) a grandmother, or someone else, and everyone makes the effort to let "Mom" know shes appreciated.

Mothers Day to me isn't that big a deal, while I'm lucky enough to still have my mother, years of misunderstandings and family turmoil have pushed us apart. I still make a phone call every May, and send a card to an important woman in my life, but to me, Fathers Day is what really matters.

Call me a Daddy's Girl, I won't deny it. In fact, I'll be the first to admit that my dad and I are really close. It wasn't always this way, but sometimes I think that it's really how it needed to be. It took me a while to realize how similar I am to my Dad, and how the things I though divided us were really the things that united us and made us even closer and how my Dad is really one of the best people in the entire world.

My father, was the first person I looked at, ever. He tells me that I looked up at him with giant eyes and he was already proud of me. This man, became the greatest man I will ever know, just like that. There are little things that a girl needs her daddy for, someones got to teach her how to ride a bike, someones got to buy her her first guitar and someones got to be the one to say "Yes" when Mom said "No." My Dad taught me how to use my voice, how to sing what I feel and how to speak my mind. He taught me how to write, whether it be songs, or essays or facebook updates, there is a little bit of my Dad in my prose.

I was lucky, because my Dad, he taught me how to cook. If my mother's culinary skills were the only example I had, I would have starved by now. Thanks to my Dad, I make the BEST grilled cheese sandwich known to man. My Dad, also taught me about politics, the politics of right and wrong, the politics of social dynamics and the politics of our country. He's probably the smartest person I know, and was always encouraging me to ask questions and he'd always answer so I understood.

My ultimate protector (My Dad COULD beat up your Dad), my greatest inspiration, and the best cheering squad I could ask for. He really is my one man back up band, and I am "Daddy's Little Roadie" and together we are a dream team.

The best part about my Dad, is that he admits when he's wrong, and he's humble. He doesn't boast about frivolous things and is my example for humility and keeping things in perspective. My father is a global thinker, and I'm lucky that his thoughts have rubbed off on me. He's never told me that I can't do something, he sees me running down a hundred different career paths, and has never told me that I have to choose just one. My Dad lives for the moment, and today, and encourages me to do the same.

When I opened my eyes for the first time, and looked into that face of his, I wonder if he knew, 24 years later how proud I'd be to call him Dad.

Happy Fathers Day

xo

"Sorry, I Don't Talk Politics"

In my recent initiative to encourage Canadians to cast their ballots, I've started many a public, political debate. In coffee shops, pubs, restaurants and street corners (and it's only been 3 days!). Many attempts at political discussion have been met with replies of "Sorry I don't talk politics in public" which is a handy and polite way of getting out of a discussion. Unfortunately, it's only one in every three people I meet that are actually willing to even talk about talking politics, and I feel like maybe "I don't talk politics" is code for "I don't understand politics."

So I decided to conduct a little experiment, I took to the streets of Vancouver and asked citizens a few basic questions about Canadian Politics.

Out of 100 people questioned on the street, 44% were aged 30 and under, 31% were aged 30-50, and 25% were age 50 and above.

When asked how many political parties we had in Canada 62% of citizens responded with 4, commonly siting the Conservatives, the Liberals and the NDP and a fluctuating response of Green Party or Marijuana Party as the 4th selection. Only 2% responded that we had 17 registered political parties, while 24% responded with 5, Liberals, Conservatives, NDP, Green Party and Marijuana Party, and 12% responded with 3, Liberals, NDP and Conservatives.

When asked who the most recent Prime Minister was before Stephen Harper 76% of Vancouverites questioned responded with Paul Martin while 24% responded with Jean Chretien.

Just for fun, when asked the name of the Spouse of The Prime Minister 18% answered correctly, while 82% didn't know. When asked the name of President Obama's wife 100% responded correctly with Michele.

While I'm not a fan of numbers, my curiosity got the better of me and I sat down with my calculator and broke down my statistics into age groups.

For question one, 80% of 18-30 year olds believed there to be 4 political parties in Canada and for 42% of 18-30 year olds surveyed believed Jean Chretien to be the last Prime Minister of Canada before Harper. As for the first name of Mrs.Harper, 5% of 18-30 year olds responded correctly, which means 95% of the 44, 18-35 year olds questioned didn't know her name was Laureen.

With a such a startling report card, it's no wonder young people don't talk politics. Most of my generation skipped a Prime Minister, and forgot about at least one Political Party.

I haven't conducted a formal survey of our understanding of elections and the electoral process, but from my discussions with peers over the last few days I can tell you that many 18-30 year olds don't understand where their vote goes, how it affects the process or even how to vote. Many people still feel voting is an inconvenience and a hassle to do, when really all you need is a piece of ID to prove who you are, a piece of official mail to prove where you live if it differs from your ID, or someone to vouch for you to say you are who you say you are, like a roommate or friend.

One thing we have learned is how to disassociate ourselves from politics, and boy do our leaders like that. With a lack of civics classes in schools, and a brief glance over the electoral process and politics in most junior high Social Studies classes, by the time we are eligible to vote, we’ve either forgotten everything we knew in sixth grade, or we have no clue about our government. Our main concern of should be teaching young voters how to utilize the power of their ballot, the function of our government and how to make the changes they wish to see. This is the first step in implementing change in our democratic system and it’s time to close the gap and let our politicians know that we’re here and we want change!

To those that say, “I don’t talk politics” I say, “Talk!” Involve each other in government, via discussion, talk about politics, teach politics and challenge yourself to learn politics!

"Sorry, But I Don't Vote"

Once again the viral craze of social networking has gone political. In the light of the recent CRTC Internet Usage online petition success, I've noticed an increase in the amount of Facebook fuelled, counter Harper petition links. Most recently of which is a petition to the Government of Canada to cease reference to itself as the "Harper Government" stating that, "The government of Canada is not Stephen Harper and Stephen Harper is not the government of Canada."

I, for one, wholeheartedly agree with, and have "signed" this internet petition, yet, I can't help but notice that re-posts of the link have flooded my newsfeed. While I'm pleased with the success of this appeal, I wonder, if every one of my friends who has signed, and reposted even one of these many circulating entreatments, actually took the time to vote on election day would it even be necessary to solicit names to this extent in order to repeal our Government's actions? Unfortunately, voter turn out during the 2008 General election was abysmal, mostly due to the fact that 18-29 year-olds didn't show up, 50% or less, of Canadian citizens ages 22-29 have voted in at least one election, yet 64% have participated in not-voting political action, if it's not that we don't care, than what is it?

When I implore my peers to vote, it seems that I receive looks of bewilderment followed by one of the following statements:

"It's not like it's going to do any good."
"I don't like any of the parties."
"If I vote for who I want to vote for, isn't it just a waste of a vote?"

The other response I get is "Democracy is corrupt anyways, so why vote?" More and more my peer group has become a swarm of counter-culture-anarchists who believe just that. We're damned if we do, damned if we don't.

I can't deny that our country needs electoral reform, and a 59% overall voter turn out in the 2008 General Election shows that most voters agree with me. As it stands now, the Canadian electoral system is that of the antiquated "First Past The Post" variety. What this means, is that Canadians vote for a candidate in their riding, and the winning candidate is granted a seat in the legislative assembly, or House of Commons, this candidate does NOT need a majority vote to win. The leader of the party who wins the most amount of seats in the House of Commons rather than the party with the highest percentage of the overall vote, is asked to form the government. In Canada with the FPTP system, governments often are formed by parties achieving less than 40% of overall voter support. The alternative to the FPTP system is that of Proportional Representation, where commonly, one ranks one's party in order of preference and a majority must be reached in order to gain a seat in the legislative assembly. With seventeen political parties registered with Elections Canada, it should be noted that PR is most effective with multi-party governments and usually results in a coalition, which have been proven to better represent the needs of ALL Canadians.

With the current system Steven Harper was elected with 34% of the 59% percent of Canadians who actually voted, this means that 18% of eligible voters in the country actually supported this government. This isn't old news, our current government is not supported by the majority ask any Canadian on the street.

Alas, whether it's "uncool" to vote or we've abandoned all hope, the epidemic of apathy when it comes to politics is spreading like wildfire and frankly, it's frightening. It's an old argument, "If you don't vote, then you can't complain about the way the countries being run" but the consequences of not voting are rapidly increasing. Not only are we currently being governed by an administration that is silently stealing our rights, we're throwing away the most important right we have and the only power we possess to change it! Every vote not cast is a vote to strengthen the status quo. That 18% of eligible voters who support the Harper Government gets stronger every time we take a pass on the polls by not diluting the core support. By not voting we send a message of "Everything's fine the way it is." Look around, read the petitions you've signed, look at the streets you avoid, the comments and complaints you make. Everything is not fine.

A common symptom of the affliction of my generation is the armchair political activism, when it's easy to take a stand, of course we will. When it's safe to rant from behind the safety of my keyboard, we'll rant! Even when we get out of our seats and protest, when we get out the poster paint, and the megaphones, we demand change and then neglect to cast our ballot.

We should be so lucky to be Canadians, and not have to have shed blood over our Government, we are blessed to be living in a country where we have a choice, each and every one of us. We are proud to have the rights and freedoms that we do, we defend them and we'll fight so that others may do the same. Still, we hesitate to take up the responsibilities that come with those freedoms, it's not a RIGHT to vote, it's a civic duty and a RESPONSIBILITY. My vote combined with your vote, combined with every other vote in the country are responsible for the healthcare, the education, and the support, of every Canadian.


It's our future, make sure you're heard. It's not enough to complain about the homelessness problem, and the state of East Hastings, it's not enough to protest, and it's not enough to sign a petition online.

Vote, and create a government you can be proud of.

Italian Shower

Okay,

I don't want this to end up being a blog full of me bitching about things i don't like, but seriously people, why can't you just anticipate the things I won't like and not do them.

Haven't we been over this yet people?!

Drenching yourself in cologne/perfume is NOT socially acceptable. It's inconsiderate and rude. When I can taste your perfume, you're wearing too much!

If you are a server in a restaurant, please for the love of god don't douse yourself in drugstore "hooker perfume" before coming to work, or even after your smoke break. I'd much rather smell your cigarette smell than an overbearing dose of "Britney Spears' Circus".

Before getting on a plane, it is not necessary to coat your skin in a bottle od Drakkar Noir. You smell like my grandpa, and now the whole plane can smell you through the wonder of recycled air. Easiest way to induce a mass migrane epidemic.

School teachers, you wonder why some of your students are suffering? Why no one will sit in the front row? Maybe if you put down the can of Axe and settled for a nice soap shower with a little unscented deodorant afterwards you might see an improvement.

Theres something to be said for class, and wearing your money well. Rich bitches, when you cover yourself in that $200 bottle of "Whatsthatsmell" and we can smell you all the way down Robson st. You are trashy, not classy, not sophisticated, nothin.

No, I will not be subtle about my disgust for your overbearing scent. I will hack loudly, and sneeze and make a big fuss. If you think it's rude, try being in my shoes. My head is killing me, my mouth tastes like chemicals and my throat burns, and it's all your fault.

Who's the rude one now?

Why do we have to go over this AGAIN and AGAIN!

Writers Funk

I tend to be a fairly friendly person. I tend to have patience for people, within reason. I would describe myself as being social. Today when I entered the "coffee shop with zero personality," it was for good reason. The walls are white washed, the tables all uniform and plain, hipster hair and white gleaming Macbooks present at each. I chose this coffee shop above the plethora of charm filled options that grace the streets of East Vancouver for it's cold atmosphere, and pretentious clientele. My hair is not asymmetrical enough for me to be approached by hipsters, nor are my jeans skinny enough, or my shirt shapeless and unflattering enough. This is the place to get work done, distractions minimal, people to distracted by themselves to approach me.

I politely oblige when asked to plug in a charger, or when someone asks about the quality of my internet connection, (it's quite poor at the moment actually). My notebook, and sketchbook, and cellphone are spread across the table around my laptop, headphones securely placed on head. I'm in the zone.

As I search for a word thats on the tip of my tongue, I notice that free tables are few and far between, I claimed one of the last and only available seats. While typing a particularily brilliant line of what I'm sure I thought was life changing prose, I was interrupted by the accent I loathe over all accents. It cuts through me like a searing knife, and makes me cringe,

"Mind i share your table?" asks the Australian woman, book in hand.

Dilemma. You see, I really do mind if she sits here. I've spread myself out, I'm comfortable, and lets face it, this table isn't big enough for the both of us.

"I won't take up that much room." she pleads.

I can't be that person, I can feel the eyes around me watching the situation unfold, so I clumsily and awkwardly in true Jus fashion try and condense my things. Shoving my books back in my bag so that only my phone, laptop and coffee remain on the table.

She sits. Out comes her book, her phone, her notebook, her glasses case, her sunglasses case (it's raining!) her pencil case (?!), her toque comes off her head and lays across my phone. Suddenly, my laptop is perched as close to the edge of the table as possible, my chair is pushed back so I can retain a little leg room comfort and my table has been conquered.

I let her sit, elbows constantly bumping, sloshing coffee out of her cup, legs crossing and uncrossing under the table, bumping yet again. My patience wearing thinner and thinner and me desperately trying to not let my lack of good humour show on my face. After all, I did say she could sit here. Finally, a table opens up, and I make a point of looking at it longingly, hoping she'll get the hint. Ha. No dice.

At this point I am as equally annoyed as I am ashamed of myself for feeling so selfish, so I reach for my cigarettes and make my escape into the drizzle for a quick nicotine cool down. As I'm slowly puffing my way into an early grave, I let fall my veil of feigned imperturbability and I notice through the window, she's watching me.

I return to my seat, re-don my headphones and begin typing. Moments after my return, she gathers her things, slips on her coat, gives me a death glare, and leaves. At long last, my personal space is mine again. My genius is free to flow out, unimpeded by this woman in my bubble.

Yet, here I am, some 600 words later, all previous grand literary postulations buried in frustration and a mild sense of guilt and confusion.

I'm stuck, and my coffee tastes like tomato juice.