Milk, Sapiens and Sexuals: ALL the Homos!

You're right, God DOES hate cigarettes. But you shouldn't be smiling.
Cigarettes kill.

I've felt incredibly compelled to write this blog post for a long time now. Because if the real Bible-following Christians don't stand up, the Eminem ones will. You can be as against homosexuality as you want to be, I don't give a flying fish. But unfortunately most Christians against homosexuality don't know how to separate their own personal beliefs from what the Bible actually says. What I mean is, the Bible is fairly clear that homosexuality in some form is a sin. The Bible is also very clear that lying is a sin. And greed. And that just thinking about having an affair is considered as bad as actually doing the deed. It is also incredibly clear that Jesus died for all sins because He absolutely, positively loves all people. I cannot express to you how stupid any Christian is who could even think, let alone say, "God hates homosexuals." God might hate homosexuality you silly goose (and I'm not even convinced He does), but He sure as heck doesn't hate homosexuals. If that is true, good luck getting into heaven. I talked to St. Peter and he said stupidity is actually a worse sin than homosexuality. He picked it out of a bowl at random, but he's firm on it.

Why do Christians love to focus on homosexuality? It's like some kind of bizarre fetish. Now if that doesn't sound sinful I don't know what does. Why aren't they focusing on well, basically anything God focused on? Because He sure as heck didn't focus on homosexuality. Here's what Jesus had to say about homosexuality: oh wait... nothing. Here's what He said about hypocrisy: well, it would just be easier for you to read the entire Gospels than listing all the times He told off the Pharisees. It makes me wonder, these gay-hating Christians, have they even read the Bible? If so, which version exactly are they reading? Because I feel like the translation might be a little off. How in the world do you ever plan on bringing anyone to know the love of Jesus by proclaiming that "God hates..." instead of "God loves"? I want to ask them, "Do we know the same God? Because I feel like yours is... different." But maybe I've got them all wrong. Maybe they're talking about a different god when they say "God hates gays." Like Zeus for instance. Man, I would not be at all surprised if that guy is a total homophobe. He just has anger-management written all over his face, in lightning bolt scars. Anyway, I for one want God to use me, not work extremely hard to get around me and heal the massive damage I've done to people's hearts by the incredibly stupid, ludicrous things I've said or done in the name of God - who is Love itself. I was going to post all the times God mentions homosexuality in the Bible (which I could, because there aren't that many) but seriously just read your freaking Bible. Now, I know there are a lot of Christians who agree with me for the most part, but they think that as long as they sit there and don't do any damage, they aren't part of the problem. Is that really all you want to be? You see, there are always going to be crazy Christians out there doing so much damage that unfortunately the rest of us can't just sit back and keep our heads down. Instead we need to love so much and so loudly that we counteract the idiots flailing around with Bibles they have obviously never read. Don't get me wrong, I love those idiots. Their parents were probably idiots too and passed it down to them. It's a vicious cycle of idiocy.

I personally used to have a problem with homosexuality. It made me feel really... weird. And then I met people who said they were gay and heard their story and I knew they were absolutely no different than I was. So why did it make me feel weird? Because the only way I could try to understand was by imagining what it would be like to be in love romantically with the same sex. And that felt really weird... and revolting = I'm straight. Yay! Life is easier for me! I was also weirded out as child even thinking that I could have been created by my parents having sex. I still am... in fact I'm convinced a stork brought me. That would explain a lot. Children delivered by storks are bound to be a little... odd. One thing that made me realize I needed to get over my weirdness was that I knew for a fact that there were men and women out there who were born with the brain/body of the opposite sex, or hermaphrodites who were born with both sex organs. If I knew this to be a fact, how could I ever conclude that one person fit this description and one did not? In which case, I COULD NEVER JUDGE. It no longer mattered whether I understood how two people loving each other, even if they were the same sex, could possibly be a sin. It didn't matter whether I believed practicing homosexuality was the sin, and not the sexual orientation itself. It did not matter whether it still grossed me out.  As long as there was the possibility of doubt, that I didn't actually know if it was genetics, upbringing or just plain choice, I COULD NEVER JUDGE. And that let me open up my heart to realize that it was actually, absolutely none of my business. It was between them and God. Which let me trust God implicitly: I no longer had to question whether God was fair because some things in His word didn't make sense to me. He knew every heart and I didn't even know my own half the time.

People say, "Love the sinner, hate the sin" which is great, but I think as long as we continue to choose not to understand the person behind the sin (or what we consider sin) we are still going to judge them. We judge what we don't understand. So instead how about trying to understand how difficult it must be to realize at any point in your life that you are different than almost everyone around you and that most people you tell this to are going to look down on you instead of loving you as you try to not to drown in the confusion of figuring out one of the most important things in your life: your sexuality. I mean, sex still confuses me. You put what in the what with the who now??? I wonder too, if those hateful Christians know just how many homosexuals have been sexually abused as children. And you are going to tell these abused children that God hates them? Good idea! Why don't you go steal from an orphanage while you're at it. God loves that. Don't you think you might be a little sexually confused too if someone had abused you when you were the most vulnerable and impressionable? And for everyone who can understand someone being gay but can't understand people who are bisexual, don't you think it might be a little bit confusing if you were attracted to both sexes? Think about it, now your potential soul-mate could be any person on the entire planet. I mean just the anxiety of that alone would make anyone choose a side. Yeah. That's right. Okay maybe not, but the point is, these are people who are struggling to understand who they are. Don't you think, if they could simply choose to be "normal" and live an easier life, they would? The thing is, we don't have to understand it, we just have to leave the judging to God. And we have a pretty good idea from the Bible what He will be judging more than anything else: our hearts. Besides I would way rather spend my time hanging out with a group of LGTB peeps (who are usually very nice people because they know what it's like to be an outsider and therefore have developed that part of their brain where this thing called "compassion" lives) than a Christian who says they hate gays. In fact, you will find that most gays don't actually hate Christians. I have no idea why. I guess they are just smart enough to realize that we are not all the same.

You don't have to agree with this to see it makes some good points.

Social Justice: Modern-Day Slavery

I feel vastly overwhelmed by the idea of writing this blog post. I don't know why. It might have something to do with the fact that the stuff I want to talk about is vastly overwhelming. Yep. That's it. This week we had Randy Hein and Tara Teng teach us a class on "Social Justice." They taught us the difference between compassion, which is like giving food to a hungry person, and justice, which is like finding out why that person is hungry and trying to fix it. We are called to both, but most Christians just stick with the compassion part. Randy talked about the new-fangled idea that worship and justice should go together. And by new-fangled I mean it's aaaaallll through the Bible and yet we seem to ignore it. Justice is everywhere in the Old Testament and everywhere in the New Testament. Again and again God says, "Take care of the poor, the widows, the orphans and the foreigners," as in the most vulnerable in society and "fight for justice." But He doesn't say it like "this would be a nice thing to do, if you have some extra time." He commands it. It's as much a part of His law as "do not murder."

Tara Teng is this amazing girl who is all about ending human trafficking (some key words we discovered in describing what she does are "ending" and "anti." It's the little words that matter) and happens to also be Miss World Canada. I can imagine as a young child when people asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up they would be quite confused to hear "I'm going to be an abolitionist beauty queen!" She travels around using her beauty pageant platform to speak against human trafficking, which most people don't know, isn't just a problem in far off countries but is a problem in Canada as well. What is human trafficking? It's defined as a "multibillion dollar criminal industry that involves the recruitment, transportation, harboring, or delivery of people for the purpose of slavery, sexual exploitation, and forced labor." If you were to ask most people they would say that there is no such thing as modern-day slavery. We abolished it remember? Wrong! More children, women and men are held in slavery right now than over the course of the entire trans-Atlantic slave trade. It's the fastest growing industry, second only to the drug trade, and earns over $32 billion dollars. Humans are the second most trafficked "product" on the black market. In 2008, the United Nations estimated nearly 2.5 million people from 127 different countries are being trafficked into 137 countries around the world, but many others estimate that it is more like 27 million (see The Polaris Project), two-thirds of which are women and children and an estimated 79% are used in sexual exploitation. And what about Canada? We think we're pretty great, don't we. But Canada is a known source, transit, and destination point for human trafficking. Here are some sad statistics for Canada:

• According to the RCMP, 800 to 1200 people are trafficked in and through Canada every year.
• 2200 men, women and children are trafficked into America from Canada every year. 
• In Canada a girl can be sold for $15,000 and earn her owner over $40,000 a year for the purposes of sex.

Now, this is going to be hard to believe, but it was only in 2004 that Parliament finally passed a law that even recognized human trafficking as a crime. Yay Canada. Always keeping up with the times. And it wasn’t until 2008 that someone was finally prosecuted after earning over $350,000 by sexually exploiting a 15 year-old girl daily for two years. How much time did he get? Three years. Minus 404 days for time already served. Canada is known for its suckiness at fighting human trafficking. You should not distance yourself from it, saying ah well, the world is fallen. Sure go ahead and say that, but not at the same time that you buy that shirt from Wal-Mart that was made by a human trafficking victim in China or that chocolate from Nestle or you know, 90% of the cocoa out there that is harvested by a human trafficking victim from the Ivory Coast. Did you know that a lot of pornography is made using human trafficking victims? Did you know that the average kid starts looking at porn between 6-8 years old? They don't know they're contributing to girls being held against their will and raped over and over again. But neither do most of the adults who continue to look at porn. And what about prostitution? Prostitution has a lot of controversy because people assume the girls have chosen that work. If by chosen you mean an imaginary debt is being held over their head and they have been threatened, beaten and raped into submission, then yeah, totally. Chosen.

YOU AND ME are contributing to human trafficking by the choices we make every single day. YOU AND ME are the bad guys if we aren't doing anything to help. I don't know about you, but being so incredibly privileged and blessed with so much, I want to fight for justice. I want to get to heaven and hear God say, "Yeah, you did alright." What can you do? Educate yourself, educate people, buy fair-trade, start buying more from places that don't use forced labor, stop buying less from places that do (and if you don't know, start asking) don't contribute to the sex industry, write letters to our government (go here), just to name a few. Here is a cool website that rates industries by whether they are contributing to human trafficking or making efforts to end it: Free2Work. You can download it as an app for your phone as well. And just so you know, I have to start doing these things too, little by little, bit by bit. Even Tara Teng can do more. We all can. But make sure you do something.

I think this is the heaviest blog post I've ever written. You're welcome.

Adventures in Missions, Compost and Snow-Caves

This is an awesome videoWe've had a few adventures lately and I'd like to share them. They might make you feel like you have no life, so if you tend to feel that way better not read this. I'd hate to make anyone feel the way I usually feel just looking at Facebook for five seconds.

Mission's Fest

We went to Mission's Fest three weekends ago. Most of us in Auxano are so deprived that we were more excited to go on the ferry than we were to go to an amazing Christian conference. We did have a pretty exceptional ferry ride. Brad and Eric played their guitars on the ferry deck and we sang songs and pretended we were in the Auxano band. Wait, you didn't do that guys? Oh. Awkward. Anyway, they're lying. They totally did that too. We sang and played under the overhang where the smokers and drinkers were sitting. They seemed to be enjoying it a lot, especially one guy named Kelly who was just eating it up. We were playing mostly secular songs or else Christians artists that were not overtly Christian but through conversation it got out that we were in a Christian discipleship school. Darn! And here I was trying to keep it a secret. Kelly kept inserting "Give me beer" after the line, "What do I gotta do to make you happy?" which is from the chorus of a song the boys made up about the girls. The next line is, "When everything I do just makes you snappy." The song is called PMS... As you can imagine the song did not go over very well with the girls. A couple of times Kelly almost teared up when we were singing about love and grace and Kelly's drunk cousin kept saying we were making Kelly want to go back to church even before we sang anything overtly Christian. You never know how God is going to work.

We went to a lot of seminars at Mission's Fest but the ones I was really interested in had to do with human trafficking and combating the sex trade. Gussie and I have been researching it and find we both feel a passion to do something about it. We're planning an informational night at the church we go to in Duncan to show the documentary "Nefarious" and write letters to the government. It was fun to help out a bit at the Camp Imadene booth in the exhibits room and wander around talking to people with different Christian organizations. I loved two of the speakers at the general sessions where a few hundred people had church together like it will be in Heaven: believers from every tribe, tongue and nation, and even more unusual, every denomination. One was Luis Palau who was British and hilarious and another was Ajith Fernando who was Indian and so passionate. I also loved taking naps on one of the couches up where the seminars rooms were. I even had ear plugs. At one point Brad and a few others came to where I was and were eating their lunches. Bard decided to put his cheesies on me while I was sleeping so I would wake up with them falling everywhere. Thankfully Jen took them off after he left. The last day there we were waiting for Vern, our van, and a bunch of Capenray students were playing this game called Ninja where you have to try to hit each other's hands in one move. We had started playing Ninja earlier in the year and Brad, who had never actually played before but only watched us play, decided to jump in to their game and start playing with this huge group of people watching. Probably one of the funniest things ever. Eventually four of us (not me, I suck too much at it to want to humiliate myself in front of that many people) joined in and Matt was stoked out of his mind when he won the round.

A Rocha

We were staying at the Johnston's (Eric's house) for Mission's Fest who were so nice as to host us and feed us and send us on our merry way to our next adventure: A Rocha (pronounced ah rosha), a Christian environmental stewardship centre that is all about taking care of the earth and educating others on how to do it. As an avid environmentalist and total hippy I absolutely loved it there. Going in I was really hoping it was a commune that I could secretly just join and stay there forever and everyone in Auxano would be like, "Where's Faith?" and someone would say, "She's staying behind," and they'd say, "Why?" and someone would say, "Shhhh, she's with her people now." The farm is on this old estate called Brooksdale in the boonies in Surrey, so close to the US border that my cell phone kept trying to give me roaming charges. I kept yelling at it, "Eh! I'm in Canada, you idiot!" but it didn't seem to make a difference. The estate has this great big Tudor style house and a couple other buildings and the old farm house and it looks like the classic little country manor from the 1800's. It was a present this guy bought his wife as a summer home for riding horses. Pretty nice guy I guess. I felt like I was in Pride and Prejudice and Darcy was going to come around any minute and say something that he meant one way but I took the wrong way but eventually marry him. One night before bed all the girls talked in English accents in one of our rooms and couldn't stop (it's like an addiction) and Shayla tried to tell us a story about a "magic rainbow unicorn mountain." We visited the llama, the sheeps and the chickens, but I was sad to hear they used to have pigs. I was really hoping to steal some piglets. It's probably for the best because the boys (and Steph) would just eat them. To them pigs = bacon. Apparently when llamas are brought up with sheep they think they're one of them and being the biggest of their fellow sheep (because it's actually a llama...) they guard their brothers and sisters. Stupid llamas. When we paid him a visit Steph and Shayla sang a song to him but he must have yawned more than ten times so obviously we were really boring. I tried to befriend the sheep by saying, "Baa ram ewe! Sheep be true, sheep be true!" (I literally said this many times; anyone who hadn't seen Babe didn't understand) but they weren't having it. I assumed it was a universal code of acceptance into the sheep community. Apparently not.

Our days were full of helping around the farm, learning about environmental sustainability and our relationship with creation, praying and praising the Creator and eating amazing home-grown and home-cooked food, almost all of which was vegetarian because they ate what they had, lots of veggies, bean dishes and delicious soups. I was in heaven. One day we turned compost for hours and picked carrots and ate them with the dirt still on them and Jim told a joke about a dyslexic, agnostic, insomniac who stayed up late wondering if there was a Dog and when Shayla finally got it she laughed for the longest time anyone has ever laughed at a joke. Another day we raked leaves for hours and shoveled mole hills (I get it now, the whole "don't make a mountain out of a mole hill," because mole hills are small but freaking annoying and the next day there were already a bunch of new ones. Stupid moles) and another day we replanted baby trees into bigger pots and Matt gave them really annoying voices as they were being torn from their roots and transplanted to a different land. Because of A Rocha we have new zeal for composting and the 3 R's: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, and have painfully tried to take on the challenge of eating meat for just one meal a day. Not me, obviously, but others.

Mt. Washington

We came back to the Auxano house just for the weekend and then headed up to Mt. Washington to this beautiful chalet owned by the Tenant family in a winter wonderland. The week up in that chalet was one of my very favorites. We were there from Monday to Thursday, hanging out together, reading I Spy books, knitting, playing Settlers, reading our Bibles, building a sweet snow-cave and every night we would have a naming ceremony (we've just been learning about the First Nations people so it seems even more fitting), names that we wanted each other to grow into. We named Eric "David, the lamb" (you have to whisper the lamb part because he doesn't like it) to grow in meekness and Jeremiah "Moses" to grow as a leader and Brad "Bear" like bearing fruit, not like the teddy kind. We named Jim "John," the disciple of Jesus, to grow in grace and Gussie "Rapunzel" ...the Disney princess, to come out of her tower, and Katie "Lucy," from the Narnia Series, to grow close with God. I've been named since but you'll have to wait for that one. It didn't matter that I couldn't go snowboarding. Only half of us did and only for a day. It was enough just to hang out. In fact, I was so happy sitting in the warm chalet looking at the snow NOT getting the crap beaten out of me down a mountain that I'm not sure I would have wanted to. The day after we arrived we went snowshoeing into the forest into the kind of place where snow-murders happen and you don't find the body until spring. Uh, sorry, that was, weird. Anyway we learned how to build a proper snow-cave that you could survive in if you were lost in the snow and had a snow fight. We didn't get to finish our snow-caves so the boys decided that they wanted to build another one back at the chalet. They worked on it for hours. In fact, I've never seen them more driven. They built benches in it that seated almost all eleven of us and a slide that came in the other side. Everyone loved I Spy so much that the next weekend when I went home to Victoria I brought back up with me all my old I Spy books from when I was a kid. Brad is now so enthralled by the Treasure Hunt edition that he has declared it to be the greatest book ever written. I didn't want to inform him that I doubted whether a list of things to find on each page, even if it did rhyme, constituted the greatest book ever "written," but I couldn't do it. I had to agree.

This is an awesome video we watched at A Rocha:

Auxano, or Something

Camp Imadene, Mesachie Lake

I went to Camp Imadene last week for Senior Coed, cabin leading an amazing group of girls ages 15-17. On the first day I thought I was going to die. On top of my chronic fatigue I went up there with a cold and still tired from getting home the week before from Intermediate 2 where I was the Bead Lady! Finally my dream of being the Bead Lady came true! All the kids loved me, which is weird because on the second day I cut myself on the paper cutters (seriously those things are dangerous, note to self: don't put your finger on the exacto knife part) and I didn't realize it until I was helping one girl put her bracelet on and said, "Where did that red come from?" Um. My blood. That's where. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know I was bleeding," I said. She was all, "That's okay," and unconcerned that the crazy Bead Lady just gave her some kind of blood disease (not really). Sorry for the digression. Anyway for someone who is naturally tired all the time (or would that be unnaturally?), all it takes is a laid back week at camp as the Bead Lady to wear you out enough that you get a cold because the walls of your immune system are made of rice paper. The craft was actually paper beads, which is ironic because we're on a lake and all the kids go swimming and no matter how many times you tell ten-year-olds that paper beads are not waterproof they still need to find out for themselves.

That week as the Bead Lady a friend told me about Auxano. What is that you say? A type of acne cream? No! I shall give you the definition because we all know how much you love reading definitions on my blog:

       Auxano (owx-an'-o)

1. to cause to grow, augment
2. to increase, become greater
3. to grow, increase
   1. of plants
   2. of infants
   3. of a multitude of people
   4. of inward Christian growth

So basically it's a greenhouse for growing plants and infants. Sorry, I was thinking of those little screaming baby plants from Harry Potter called Mandrakes. It's actually a greenhouse for Christians, as in an eight-month discipleship program for young adults aged 17-24 from September to April. My friend Erin told me they still needed a female RA, Resident Advisor. I said, "Oh I could never do that, I'd be too tired." She said, "Well you're tired all the time at home, why not be tired up at camp?" You think you're soooo smart, don't you Erin? Actually she is (she has also struggled with fatigue so she knows what it's like. She is probably one of the only people who could say that to me!). Sometimes the best wisdom is the most obvious. At Senior my friend Katie told me the amazing news that she was going to be one of the students. I was so happy for her, going out and doing this thing, whatever it was, that I obviously could never, ever do. Then Andy the director of camp sneakily started asking me questions that I knew were leading to something to do with the RA position and me. Then I thought, "Do I have to actually consider this? What, now I have to physically sit down and pray about it and ask God if I should do it and wait to see what He says and then have an internal dialogue with myself, or not-so internal because I like to talk out loud like a crazy person?" This was asking too much, people. Too much.

Mandrake

I wanted God to make it clear to me by Tuesday morning SHARP so that I could actually give my two weeks notice at work. And then what did God go and do? He left it up to me. He left the door wide open so that I could decide if I wanted to walk through it or not. It seemed like the perfect time to move out. As some might say I needed to fly the cuckoo's nest, I mean nest, although cuckoo is probably the most appropriate bird for my family (sorry family). And God had already shown me at Senior coed that His grace was sufficient for me, that He could use me despite my tiredness. One by one all the obstacles I thought were so huge (health issues, my parents needing to move, financial problems, my dog) they just started to seem more like changes than obstacles. What's a little inconvenience to my parents? By now they were secretly begging me to move out and get on with my life. So what if I can't afford to get a crown on my sketchy tooth? God would give me dentures. What's a dog, anyway, when you think about it? People in China eat them (just kidding, I mean they do, but I love my dog. Unfortunately she loves my mom more anyway.) One big thing that changed my mind? I told my brother about it and He was totally, completely against it. He reminded me that we are not rich kids who can just give up our jobs at a moment's notice. And then out of the blue during a different conversation he said, "I think you should do it. I will support you financially $20 a month." (What a good brother!) So I gave my two weeks notice at work and will be leaving on the 15th of September for eight months up at one of my favorite places on earth! The ten or so of us will be staying in a house in Lake Cowichan and commute to camp every day for the program. I will be an advisor and leader for the students so I have to be on my best behavior = sarcastic, attention-seeking Faith will have to sit on the back burner (she can come visit me in my room when no one is looking). Room and board and food are paid for but I will most likely have to raise money for a living allowance.

Wait a second, who decided that I would make a good RA? Have they read my blog? Do they know me? I think someone has made a grave error. No one must ever know how unqualified I am to lead a group of girls my own age in discovering their inner selves. I write stories about unicorns for goodness sake's. Thank GOD He is strong in my weakness! If the onus is on me this ship is going down in a giant whirl pool, and fast, with a lot of screaming and throwing up. If the onus is on Jesus then we have nothing to worry about! He walks on water and tells storms to pipe down and they do it. (I tell storms to pipe down too but they never do it.) I am going to have to change my name on this blog before they find out it is me and tell me no one who writes this stuff could ever advise young adults about life and God. I've just decided. I shall change my name to Paith Slenkin... Jr.

Convoking a Convocation



We weren't allowed to throw our hats.
I hid behind some trees and did it anyway...

I went to my convocation last week. What in the world is a convocation you ask?

con·vo·ca·tion
noun \ˌkän-və-ˈkā-shən\

a. The act of convoking.

b. A group of people convoked, especially the members of a college or university community who are assembled for a ceremony.

I love when dictionary definitions require you to look up the definition of another word just to understand the first one, like it's purposefully challenging your intelligence. To convoke means "to call (a meeting, assembly, etc.) together; summon." When you are summoned you feel greatly compelled to go to your summonses, otherwise you might end up in court.

After going to the wrong place trying to find my regalia, then going to the wrong classroom for the rehearsal, you would think this would worry me. Au contraire. It was extremely satisfying to know I was finishing just as I had started: not knowing where the heck to go. Five minutes before the ceremony started they told us that if we hadn't paid our fees or there were any outstanding problems, we wouldn't receive our degree. I was dumbfounded. You're telling me, the university is going to let some schmuck get up there in his gown and cap and inform him it was a false alarm? I have to believe that sometime between then and the five minutes before we were going on stage, somebody, somewhere would pull that guy out of line and tell him the bad news. My question is: how the heck did he get this far in the process (and why is he automatically a boy)?

I had been mourning the fact that graduation was not going to be what I had always imagined it would be, what movies made it out to be and what other departments who were with the same people throughout their program were probably experiencing. There were only two people I knew who were graduating with me and I don't think they would have reacted well if I started jumping up and down like a school girl (because that would be the last time I could use that expression legitimately) and giving them hugs and kisses. But I was feeling disappointed and lonely so I prayed and God showed me how to enjoy it for what it was, not for what it wasn't. He put me next to a very nice girl I hadn't met before but who was also in the writing program and this year the Christian chaplain was picked to say the prayer. She called on "the Prince of Peace" and I felt like God was telling me He was with me. I also felt like I was walking into The Phantom of the Opera when the opening music was played and I can only assume the guy playing the very old organ was trying to scare off any graduates at the last minute (university is all about weeding out the weaklings). I automatically "put my hand at the level of my eye" to block any strangling attempts, because if the UVic phantom was going to make his move it would be then people. But no worries, once you had passed that test (I got a B), the guys from Hogwarts showed up in their medieval, wizard looking outfits and played some music obviously inspired by Harry Potter. I turned to the girl next to me I had just made friends with and said, "Do you feel like you're in Hogwarts?" She said, "YES!" The Chancellor, aka Dumbledore, even had a purple Sorting Hat that he tapped on our heads before we got our degrees. Any minute they were going to call out, "Faith Blenkin, Griffindor!"



You can watch me gradauate in the UVic convocation video here but I don't know why you would. It is the longest video in the world and the first half of it is full of ponds and grass. I wouldn't make my worst enemy watch it. I am in it for point-two seconds (skip to 107:34).

ThE eViL EaSter bUnnY

What mother is letting their child sit on that?

Yesterday I just had to see a picture of a little yellow chick in a nest and I started salivating for Easter chocolate. Easter is coming. One year our family had a big get together at Beacon Hill Park and we had an Easter egg hunt. There was a little kid race and for the first, last and only time in a race, I won, probably against some toddlers and really slow, crippled kids. Someone in the family wore a giant Easter bunny head and it traveled around to different people, which if they were trying to keep the magic alive, was very confusing. Why does the Easter bunny keep changing people? And who was crazy enough in the family that they thought it was necessary to rent a bunny head for the occasion? That's a trick question. It could be anyone. But as much as I admire their enthusiasm, I'm really surprised it didn't freak me out. I'm actually surprised the Easter bunny in general didn't freak me out. For one, a full-grown man in a bunny suit makes me think genetic mutation. Secondly, the Easter bunny was clearly trying to kill me by dropping off little eggs of poison all over my house. Doesn't the Easter bunny know I am not only allergic to dairy products, I'm also allergic to cocoa? Yes, of course the Easter bunny knows that. The Easter bunny is a wheeler and dealer. How else would he be able to get the chickens to give up their babies? But the truth is no one wants to be the only kid eating jelly beans while everyone else is eating chocolate eggs. No one.

Big Mouth Betty (Debby Downer's BFF)

I am a faulty machine. If you bought me, hopefully you kept the receipt. For instance, sometimes I have a big mouth. No, I don't mean the actual size of it, though it is large. Actually my mouth isn't so large as my gums are ginormous. When I smile it is equal parts gum and teeth. Some might say large gums are not aesthetically pleasing, and although I haven't yet had a dentist say, "You're lucky, you have large gums," I prefer thinking of them as well-endowed. I imagine that some day I will be old and have no teeth, and then I will be happy that I have such large gums to fill up my smile. What was I saying? Something to do with talking too much... Oh right, what I actually meant by having a  big mouth was that I say things without thinking. They call me Big Mouth Betty (fortunately no one's ever called me that). She's best friends with Debby Downer. I wish I could say that at least I mean well. Unfortunately when you say something without thinking, you don't have time to sneak good intentions behind your words and use that as an excuse. And telling someone you mean well instead of apologizing is about as effective as telling someone you didn't mean it. Didn't you? Didn't you? Then there are the times where you actually do mean well but you still shouldn't have said it. You may have been thinking before you spoke, but you were thinking of bunny rabbits. These are some of the ways it happens:

1. I want to be funny, so I say something slightly hurtful but hilarious.
2. I have this desire to share things with people but some things are not mine to share.
3. I like to talk.
4. I usually think I am right (I usually am) and so I argue for no reason (except to prove your ignorance, obviously).
5. I am always overtired and when I get irritable sometimes bad things come out.

The Duck Award of Excellence

This post is pure diatribe. Pure, beautiful diatribe.

The Duck Award of Excellence

It's unfortunate but true: a lot of good literature doesn't make sense. It's like to be considered good a book must have attempted to make it as difficult as possible for their readers to understand what they are reading. I'm half kidding because I absolutely love painful old-school stuff like Shakespeare but Shakespeare has a good excuse for being difficult to understand: it's old. If it was difficult to understand then, everyone would have left the theatre frustrated and sent him to the guillotine (it was very violent back then). Many books that win awards are not very friendly to readers, though they may be doing all sorts of wonderful things like pushing boundaries and dealing with important subjects. But if I'm not enjoying a book, which doesn't mean it has to be a happy story or that it can't educate me on something, then what's the point? If I wanted to be educated on important topics only, I would just watch The Onion News. Seriously people. Many of the books I really love have not won any awards, or at least not the really important ones, like Christy, The Dwelling Place, Fortune's Rocks, I Capture the Castle, or fantasy book series like Dave Duncan's books, or CS Lewis The Chronicles of Narnia which do not necessarily have the most amazing writing in the history of the world, but they are the kind of stories that you get lost in. And there is nothing quite like getting lost in a book. Often I find I can't trust those little awards on books at all, I'll get all excited reading a book with an award, thinking, "This book can't possibly let me down, it won an award!" And then find myself feeling horrendously betrayed by the awards people when the books just plain sucks. Sadly, awards just can't be trusted. I believe the awards people are corrupt and give awards in exchange for bribes and personal favors (like those little kazoos in party favors or doing their laundry). I think there should fake awards for crappy books to warn readers. They could have a sticker with a picture of a duck on crutches and call it "The Duck Award of Excellence" and hope the authors don't notice the mini crutches. Only readers would secretly know it was a courtesy sticker that meant not to waste their precious reading time on such a lame book.

Naturopathic

A lot of people, Christians especially, are afraid of different approaches to medicine, such as naturopaths and acupuncture. And they're legitimate fears. Eastern medicine is often closely tied to, in my humble opinion, weird sh*t, pardon my political incorrectness. Whereas eastern culture is very spirit oriented, western culture is often obsessed with body, body, body (insert "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha" inflection). It's all, "Be fit! Eat healthy!" or, "Eat that Big Mac! Watch TV forever!" creating a deadly war between what you want and what's good for you, while forgetting that a healthy body with an unhealthy mind is fairly pointless, and a healthy body with a nonexistent spirit is fairly empty. But I do NOT believe that your spirit and your mind are the same thing. I believe your spirit is separate and pure and shouldn't be messed around with, so yes, you do have to be careful taking part in something that could have spiritual elements that you don't believe in.

This is me after acupuncture.

But bear with me if you don't believe in spirituality in the first place, because part of me doesn't either. I'm pretty skeptical when it comes to anything spiritual, unless it's related to Jesus, which isn't very convincing if you also don't believe in Jesus or God for that matter. We think it's easier separating body and mind than mind and spirit but that's just because our bodies are pretty hard to ignore. Bodies are like whiny, needy babies. They smell and hurt and are constantly reminding you that they are there. Right now my body is saying, "I have to pee," "I'm hungry," and "Get back to work." Oh, no wait, that's my boss. But most people go their whole lives without experiencing anything spiritual, and I mean spiritual to the point that you can't explain it away by anything you have ever known. But not all different approaches to medicine are bad. And instead of being afraid of them we should be aware of what they are really all about and stay clear of anything we don't agree with. And I'm not going to water it down for you. I truly believe there is a spiritual world out there warring for your soul and you are either on the right side, Jesus' side, or the wrong side, Satan's side, whether you know it or not. So no doubt you have to be careful what kind of things you take part in, because it's no joke. Well, that is----→