I think turning twenty has been more of a milestone for me than turning eighteen or nineteen.
When I turned eighteen, I figured I was becoming an adult. I could vote, after all.
When I turned nineteen, I guessed adulthood must have hit me. I could go to bars and buy lottery tickets.
But when I turned twenty, I think that's when adulthood (see: reality) finally decided to really kick in.
There isn't anything I can do at twenty that I couldn't do at nineteen, but twenty as a number seems to have more of a psychological impact on me than eighteen or nineteen. There's no "teen" in my age anymore.
I can't blame being a teenager for mistakes I make. I can't plead young ignorance anymore.
While this doesn't mean that I all of a sudden know what the hell I'm doing sometimes, it means I've gotten better at pretending.
I feel like it was just yesterday that I was graduating. Now, I'm halfway through my undergrad and spending the summer getting a glimpse at what it's like to be a journalist.
I've managed to land a summer internship with the T-J, my hometown newspaper and the province's largest daily. I'm writing for the paper I've grown up reading, ironically enough, in the city I always thought I'd leave.
It kind of all happened by chance. Since I don't have my license yet, I wasn't going to apply for an internship. But I realized that I had nothing to lose in applying. And now, here I am.
My biggest fear was that I wouldn't like it.
I started researching journalism programmes when I was in grade six. To say that I had ambitions to be a journalist would probably be an understatement.
I'd like to think that just about everything I've done has been working toward the very moment I stepped into the T-J two weeks ago tomorrow.
So to finally get here and then realize it's not what I want was a thought that was in the back of my mind after I finished exams and waited patiently for the internship to begin.
My second biggest fear was that I wouldn't be good enough.
I've gotten better at not doubting my abilities, because I've realized that if I can't believe that I'm good at something, the person I need to give me a shot certainly isn't going to. And once you start doubting yourself, that's it. You're finished. I think not measuring up will always be at the back of my mind and I'm not alone on that. But I'm pushing it back and free diving ahead for now.
With two weeks at the T-J under my belt, I now feel a bit more comfortable, but not too comfortable. I'm always worried about making mistakes, and it's taught me to pay more attention to what I'm writing. More importantly, I think my experience so far has shown me what I want to do as a journalist.
I've never really known exactly what I want to do in journalism, just that I want to be a journalist. And while I don't want to limit myself too much and I want to be versatile, I'm starting to see what I'm best at and where I want to be in my career eventually.
When I was a kid, what always attracted me to journalism was the excitement of it all. When something big happens, I want to be there. I want to know what's going on. I might not understand it and hell, I might not be able to help others understand it, but I'm going to try.
I want to tell stories that matter, stories that wouldn't be told otherwise. I want to make a difference and I think that's what has kept me pushing all of these years through late IB nights, losing Papa, marathon yearbook sessions, high school awkwardness, all-night paper writing sessions and general "oh damn it, I'm growing up!" identity crises.
I've also realized how much I've learned writing for The AQ. Without my experiences at The AQ, I would feel much less prepared to take on each day of this new adventure.
Saint John has surprised me. I'm learning more about Saint John this summer than I have in my twenty years combined here. Instead of wanting to leave Saint John, maybe I've turned the corner and realized it'll always be a part of me. I may not live here forever, but maybe I could live here for a while.
That's how things happen sometimes I guess. I wanted to leave Saint John. I wanted to go to Ryerson. I wanted to be a broadcast journalist, and hell, maybe I still will be. But I've fallen in love with print, I'm still in Saint John, and I ended up at STU. In first year, I might have regretted my university choice. But now, I think it was the best last-minute (as usual) decision I ever made.
If I didn't go to STU, it's likely I wouldn't have gotten the opportunity to write so much at any other campus newspaper. I wouldn't have met the great friends I've met in Fredericton, who've helped me a lot this year. I wouldn't have learned so much about myself.
Back to the original subject, I love what I'm doing this summer. I'm so thankful to have the opportunity to get up every day and do something I love, and hopefully, make a difference. I know that these types of jobs are scarce, which makes me even more grateful to have this opportunity.
Sometimes, I don't know how the hell I got here, but I'm glad I did.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Aside
Sometimes, it takes a while to appreciate things.
When I lived at home, I only noticed the things about my neighbourhood I disliked. It became monotonous to me. When you live somewhere for so long and experience the scenery for so many years, I think it's bound to happen.
To be blatantly honest, I was also always a bit embarrassed about where I came from.
Which makes little sense, because everything my family raised me with drilled in the idea of equality to my brain. They taught me that I am no less than anyone else based upon how many parents I had, or how much money we made. Nor am I any better than anyone else.
Despite this, I still felt embarrassed telling people where I lived or what I came from.
It took living in another place where I could be around new types of people and experience new ideas to really appreciate who I am, and where I came from.
If there's anything I've ever learned from the time I had with Papa, it's that you don't need to be great, rich or grand to make a difference. You don't have to have a lot to impact someone else's life.
You can bloom where you are, no matter where that is.
It doesn't matter where you are, or what situation you're in, something can always be learned from it.
Neighbourhoods like the South End don't need to be fixed. They can be great neighbourhoods and so can the people in them be great. You just need to give them the opportunity to have an impact on their own community and to grow.
That's when you'll really see people blooming where they are.
The Weakerthans - Aside
When I lived at home, I only noticed the things about my neighbourhood I disliked. It became monotonous to me. When you live somewhere for so long and experience the scenery for so many years, I think it's bound to happen.
To be blatantly honest, I was also always a bit embarrassed about where I came from.
Which makes little sense, because everything my family raised me with drilled in the idea of equality to my brain. They taught me that I am no less than anyone else based upon how many parents I had, or how much money we made. Nor am I any better than anyone else.
Despite this, I still felt embarrassed telling people where I lived or what I came from.
It took living in another place where I could be around new types of people and experience new ideas to really appreciate who I am, and where I came from.
If there's anything I've ever learned from the time I had with Papa, it's that you don't need to be great, rich or grand to make a difference. You don't have to have a lot to impact someone else's life.
You can bloom where you are, no matter where that is.
It doesn't matter where you are, or what situation you're in, something can always be learned from it.
Neighbourhoods like the South End don't need to be fixed. They can be great neighbourhoods and so can the people in them be great. You just need to give them the opportunity to have an impact on their own community and to grow.
That's when you'll really see people blooming where they are.
The Weakerthans - Aside
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Haiti
Like many others, I've seen a lot of pictures of the devastation in Haiti over the last few days. With technology, we have gotten used to seeing pictures of devastation perhaps more than previous generations. It's just so easy for pictures to make their way around the globe.
But I think what has made the tragedy in Haiti more real for me is reading profiles of missing Canadians on the Toronto Star's website. They've set aside space on the website for people to upload pictures of their missing loved ones in Haiti.
The photos are complimented by a small write-up about why they were in Haiti, what they have done in their lives, and worst of all, who they may be leaving behind if the story ends tragically. It's another example of how technology is helping disaster relief.
I have always found obituaries to be fascinating to read for the same reason that I find these profiles fascinating (and mind you, I hope that these profiles do not turn into obituaries -- with luck, many of these people will be found alive).
Essentially, you're summarizing someone's life. You're talking about their accomplishments and you're trying to tell the world who they are and there's not a lot of space. Not only that, but you're doing it by talking to everybody else except for that person that you're writing about. It has to be a challenge for the writer.
What strikes me even more is that for many who have or will perish in Haiti as a result of the devastating earthquake, there won't be anyone to tell their story. A lot of people die without having their story told. That doesn't mean they'll be forgotten and that their story won't be told in other ways, of course, but it's a sad thought nonetheless.
I guess what I am trying to say is that even though we see a lot of devastation, we can't become desensitized to suffering simply because we are used to seeing it. Images from Haiti today shouldn't be less shocking than they were last week just because we're getting used to seeing them.
That's why it moved me to read the profiles on the Star's site. It's one thing to see a picture of someone suffering or to read about someone suffering. But it's another thing entirely when I'm reminded that the person had a life, a family, and that the person was not entirely unlike myself.
The Arcade Fire - Haiti
But I think what has made the tragedy in Haiti more real for me is reading profiles of missing Canadians on the Toronto Star's website. They've set aside space on the website for people to upload pictures of their missing loved ones in Haiti.
The photos are complimented by a small write-up about why they were in Haiti, what they have done in their lives, and worst of all, who they may be leaving behind if the story ends tragically. It's another example of how technology is helping disaster relief.
I have always found obituaries to be fascinating to read for the same reason that I find these profiles fascinating (and mind you, I hope that these profiles do not turn into obituaries -- with luck, many of these people will be found alive).
Essentially, you're summarizing someone's life. You're talking about their accomplishments and you're trying to tell the world who they are and there's not a lot of space. Not only that, but you're doing it by talking to everybody else except for that person that you're writing about. It has to be a challenge for the writer.
What strikes me even more is that for many who have or will perish in Haiti as a result of the devastating earthquake, there won't be anyone to tell their story. A lot of people die without having their story told. That doesn't mean they'll be forgotten and that their story won't be told in other ways, of course, but it's a sad thought nonetheless.
I guess what I am trying to say is that even though we see a lot of devastation, we can't become desensitized to suffering simply because we are used to seeing it. Images from Haiti today shouldn't be less shocking than they were last week just because we're getting used to seeing them.
That's why it moved me to read the profiles on the Star's site. It's one thing to see a picture of someone suffering or to read about someone suffering. But it's another thing entirely when I'm reminded that the person had a life, a family, and that the person was not entirely unlike myself.
The Arcade Fire - Haiti
Friday, January 8, 2010
After Hours
I like writing, but sometimes I despise it. It doesn't really come easily to me because I have a hard time starting. After that, it flows pretty well. I've always had a tendency to ramble though -- I'm workin' on it. This is ironic because now that I've written what you just read (or at the very least, what I just re-read over in my head), my writing is flowing and words are coming easily.
Christmas break has been good, it has truly been a break. A good time to recharge my batteries, if I can use a rather overused phrase. I've read a lot this break, mostly in front of the Fireplace Channel (yeah, that's right, the Fireplace Channel), because that's how classy I am.
I've read three books over this break. First was "The Pickton File" by Stevie Cameron. I've written about Vancouver's DTES on here and on BelowtheLine and bought this book for my Mom as a Christmas gift last year. She's always liked reading about murder and watching Court TV proceedings. It's never really been my thing.
Cameron was the Irving Chair in Journalism during the first semester of my first year at school. I ran into her one night heading down to a friend's room to do karaoke. She was doing laundry in my residence's locked wing, where people with single rooms live. Apparently, people who live in suites also make use of the laundry room.
At the time, I hadn't really recognized what I wanted to do with my journalism and I'm not sure I even knew why I wanted to be a journalist. That's all kind of transpired within me over the last year.
Anyway, we had a good chat but I wish I had read the book then. I would have liked to have the chance to talk with her more in depth about her experiences. Oh well.
After that, I picked up "Missing Sarah" at my local library (see: previous blog post on how the public library is one of my favourite places), a beautiful memoir about one of Pickton's victims. The book was written by the woman's sister, Maggie de Vries. It was heartwrenching, truthful, eye-opening and changed some of the stereotypes I may have had ingrained in me about sex work. It was real.
Finally, I read "Hey Nostradamus!" by Douglas Coupland. I've always wanted to check out Coupland, and I kind of grabbed this book on a whim when I visited the library to pick up "Missing Sarah". I wanted to read "Generation X" but I wasn't able to find it for some reason or another. Some other time.
It was a good read. A lot of thought back and forth about faith and life and purpose and the like. I'd like to read more Coupland, but I want to read more in general and haven't yet pushed myself to find the time do so as much as I'd like while in school, save for news.
I've also put a dent in "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. I know the book is a bit fabricated and the style of writing annoys me, but I found myself drawn in particularly late at night when I cannot fall asleep.
So there you have it. I've certainly done more than read this break, don't get me wrong. I've seen a lot of family and friends that I haven't seen since the summer or since Thanksgiving. That was nice.
The one thing I am aching to do while home is to go for a jog. I suppose I could still go for a jog, despite the snow covering the ground, but it's not quite the same. It's not the same in a gym on a treadmill either. I just like the reckless abandon of jogging outside. Add it onto my list of the many reasons I wish I lived somewhere with a more favourable climate.
Speaking of running, remember the guy I wrote about in a previous blog post that runs past my house everyday like clockwork? Well, I do. I haven't seen him in ages, I began to wonder if he was still running. I was heading down to my grandmother's house the other night and sure enough, he ran past, even though it was pretty cold out that night.
I wanted to run after him and talk to him. I don't even know what I'd say without sounding creepy. I don't know him at all. Yet, he's been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. My inner creature of habit was quite pleased.
After Hours - We Are Scientists
Christmas break has been good, it has truly been a break. A good time to recharge my batteries, if I can use a rather overused phrase. I've read a lot this break, mostly in front of the Fireplace Channel (yeah, that's right, the Fireplace Channel), because that's how classy I am.
I've read three books over this break. First was "The Pickton File" by Stevie Cameron. I've written about Vancouver's DTES on here and on BelowtheLine and bought this book for my Mom as a Christmas gift last year. She's always liked reading about murder and watching Court TV proceedings. It's never really been my thing.
Cameron was the Irving Chair in Journalism during the first semester of my first year at school. I ran into her one night heading down to a friend's room to do karaoke. She was doing laundry in my residence's locked wing, where people with single rooms live. Apparently, people who live in suites also make use of the laundry room.
At the time, I hadn't really recognized what I wanted to do with my journalism and I'm not sure I even knew why I wanted to be a journalist. That's all kind of transpired within me over the last year.
Anyway, we had a good chat but I wish I had read the book then. I would have liked to have the chance to talk with her more in depth about her experiences. Oh well.
After that, I picked up "Missing Sarah" at my local library (see: previous blog post on how the public library is one of my favourite places), a beautiful memoir about one of Pickton's victims. The book was written by the woman's sister, Maggie de Vries. It was heartwrenching, truthful, eye-opening and changed some of the stereotypes I may have had ingrained in me about sex work. It was real.
Finally, I read "Hey Nostradamus!" by Douglas Coupland. I've always wanted to check out Coupland, and I kind of grabbed this book on a whim when I visited the library to pick up "Missing Sarah". I wanted to read "Generation X" but I wasn't able to find it for some reason or another. Some other time.
It was a good read. A lot of thought back and forth about faith and life and purpose and the like. I'd like to read more Coupland, but I want to read more in general and haven't yet pushed myself to find the time do so as much as I'd like while in school, save for news.
I've also put a dent in "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. I know the book is a bit fabricated and the style of writing annoys me, but I found myself drawn in particularly late at night when I cannot fall asleep.
So there you have it. I've certainly done more than read this break, don't get me wrong. I've seen a lot of family and friends that I haven't seen since the summer or since Thanksgiving. That was nice.
The one thing I am aching to do while home is to go for a jog. I suppose I could still go for a jog, despite the snow covering the ground, but it's not quite the same. It's not the same in a gym on a treadmill either. I just like the reckless abandon of jogging outside. Add it onto my list of the many reasons I wish I lived somewhere with a more favourable climate.
Speaking of running, remember the guy I wrote about in a previous blog post that runs past my house everyday like clockwork? Well, I do. I haven't seen him in ages, I began to wonder if he was still running. I was heading down to my grandmother's house the other night and sure enough, he ran past, even though it was pretty cold out that night.
I wanted to run after him and talk to him. I don't even know what I'd say without sounding creepy. I don't know him at all. Yet, he's been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. My inner creature of habit was quite pleased.
After Hours - We Are Scientists
Friday, December 11, 2009
Learn To Fly
I'm pretty sure I'm on the wrong timezone.
When I was a kid, my Mom tried everything to get me to go to bed at a regular time. She'd be heading to bed at the same time and tell me that she'd race me in painting a rainbow in my head. She probably figured that by thinking about painting a rainbow, I'd stop thinking about every other thing on the planet and fall asleep.
But I can't say any of it worked. Pretty much since I was a kid, my internal clock has been off. What's even weirder is that the world makes more sense to me at night than at any other time. It's when I do my best thinking.
I've always cared about what's going on in the world, and I've always wanted to make sense of it all. That's one of the reasons why I want to be a journalist, although more and more everyday I wonder if I'll actually be able to make sense of some things in the world for people.
A few years ago, I thought I wouldn't have a hard time being detached from stories I'd write about as a journalist. Of course, I didn't really know anything about journalism (arguably, although I know more now, my knowledge is still very limited).
Writing about the death of someone would be easy because I had no attachment to them, so I thought. I told my Mom that I wanted to report in the Middle East, and I'd be OK with war reporting. After all, it was the constant news coverage of 9/11 that first drew me into the excitment of journalism and reporting.
Now I feel like a bigger problem is detaching myself from stories.
I think to some degree I still can. I'm a bit morbid as a news junkie, I suppose. Some people avoid reading articles that upset them, but I can read about murders, tragic fires and war deaths. Can I write about them?
Can I write about someone who is homeless dying from the cold? My instinct is to write about what wasn't done to protect the person, but sometimes all that's necessary is the basic laying out of facts. The W's.
Poverty is something that I'm pretty passionate about. When I write stories about poverty, I think it comes through that it's something that I care about. With that said, I have a lot of opinions on social policy. Sometimes, I wonder if it's good to be passionate about topics as a journalist or not.
Am I able to write about things I'm passionate about without bypassing that shield of neutrality?
Certainly, when I take on a story that I am passionate about, I become more determined in writing the story. I'm pushing myself to find that determination with every story. But does every story need to evoke emotion in the reader?
Michael Harris offered a lecture at STU this fall about the Donald Marshall story. For anyone unfamiliar with the story, Marshall was convicted for a murder he did not commit. Although he was exonerated, repayment for the years he served in prison and what he endured was never given to him by the provincial government of Nova Scotia, nor the federal government. Even after being declared innocent, Marshall was treated like a criminal.
Harris, a highly-respected Canadian journalist, took on Marshall's story and got to know him well. He told the audience that most journalists have a sense of "helping people who really can't afford it."
After hearing that I thought, well yeah, that's why I want to be a journalist. Journalists are often displayed on TV shows and in movies as being willing to exploit people during times of tragedy. But is that really true of most journalists? Or are most journalists motivated to report by a sense of helping people, like Harris suggests?
As I delve more into journalism and learn more about why I want to be a journalist, I hope these questions will answer themselves. I'm learning a bit everyday, I guess.
The only thing about journalism that I am certain of is that more I learn, the more I become sure that it's what I want to do, but also I become aware of how difficult it is to be a journalist.
Just one thing running through my brain at 3am.
Learn to Fly - Foo Fighters
When I was a kid, my Mom tried everything to get me to go to bed at a regular time. She'd be heading to bed at the same time and tell me that she'd race me in painting a rainbow in my head. She probably figured that by thinking about painting a rainbow, I'd stop thinking about every other thing on the planet and fall asleep.
But I can't say any of it worked. Pretty much since I was a kid, my internal clock has been off. What's even weirder is that the world makes more sense to me at night than at any other time. It's when I do my best thinking.
I've always cared about what's going on in the world, and I've always wanted to make sense of it all. That's one of the reasons why I want to be a journalist, although more and more everyday I wonder if I'll actually be able to make sense of some things in the world for people.
A few years ago, I thought I wouldn't have a hard time being detached from stories I'd write about as a journalist. Of course, I didn't really know anything about journalism (arguably, although I know more now, my knowledge is still very limited).
Writing about the death of someone would be easy because I had no attachment to them, so I thought. I told my Mom that I wanted to report in the Middle East, and I'd be OK with war reporting. After all, it was the constant news coverage of 9/11 that first drew me into the excitment of journalism and reporting.
Now I feel like a bigger problem is detaching myself from stories.
I think to some degree I still can. I'm a bit morbid as a news junkie, I suppose. Some people avoid reading articles that upset them, but I can read about murders, tragic fires and war deaths. Can I write about them?
Can I write about someone who is homeless dying from the cold? My instinct is to write about what wasn't done to protect the person, but sometimes all that's necessary is the basic laying out of facts. The W's.
Poverty is something that I'm pretty passionate about. When I write stories about poverty, I think it comes through that it's something that I care about. With that said, I have a lot of opinions on social policy. Sometimes, I wonder if it's good to be passionate about topics as a journalist or not.
Am I able to write about things I'm passionate about without bypassing that shield of neutrality?
Certainly, when I take on a story that I am passionate about, I become more determined in writing the story. I'm pushing myself to find that determination with every story. But does every story need to evoke emotion in the reader?
Michael Harris offered a lecture at STU this fall about the Donald Marshall story. For anyone unfamiliar with the story, Marshall was convicted for a murder he did not commit. Although he was exonerated, repayment for the years he served in prison and what he endured was never given to him by the provincial government of Nova Scotia, nor the federal government. Even after being declared innocent, Marshall was treated like a criminal.
Harris, a highly-respected Canadian journalist, took on Marshall's story and got to know him well. He told the audience that most journalists have a sense of "helping people who really can't afford it."
After hearing that I thought, well yeah, that's why I want to be a journalist. Journalists are often displayed on TV shows and in movies as being willing to exploit people during times of tragedy. But is that really true of most journalists? Or are most journalists motivated to report by a sense of helping people, like Harris suggests?
As I delve more into journalism and learn more about why I want to be a journalist, I hope these questions will answer themselves. I'm learning a bit everyday, I guess.
The only thing about journalism that I am certain of is that more I learn, the more I become sure that it's what I want to do, but also I become aware of how difficult it is to be a journalist.
Just one thing running through my brain at 3am.
Learn to Fly - Foo Fighters
Friday, July 31, 2009
I've Been Asleep for a Long, Long Time
When I was a kid, I was a pretty big Sesame Street fan. Two of my favourite clips that I remember even to this day showed regular people all over the world doing regular things. One was called "Everybody Sleeps" and another was called "Everybody Eats" and they had catchy little songs about how everyone sleeps and eats to go along with the clips.
I think that what young me liked most about these two clips was that it made me feel good inside to know that there are small things that tie us all together. It doesn't matter where you live, what colour you are or whether you're rich or poor, every person on the planet sleeps and eats. That's still what I like about these clips.
But even at that age, I had the unfortunate realization that not everyone was treated equally in society, even though we're all created equally and we're all one and the same. Everyone eats, but not everyone has access to food all of the time. Everyone sleeps, but not everyone has a comfy bed to sleep in.
Even though these clips were designed for a young audience, I think they have one of the most important lessons a person can learn in life embedded in them. We're all the same. We have many differences, whether it be physically, mentally, or of opinion. But regardless of those differences, when we look deep down, we are the same on many levels.
It's my wish that everyone could see those clips and maybe come to the same conclusion, and then we could eradicate our conflicts with each other. Wishful thinking.
These clips came to mind when I was on my way home from my shift at work on Sunday. I saw a man running down my street. For as long as I can remember, this man has ran past my house every day, rain or shine.
No matter how much my life has changed in the last few years for the better or the worse, whether it be by losing people close to me, trying to figure out what my role on this earth is or simply growing up, he's still ran past my house every day like clockwork. And maybe it's because I'm a creature of habit and familiarity but I find it pretty damn crazy that even as your life is changing before your eyes, some things never change.
I think in a lot of ways this running man also represents determination. I've seen him run in some nasty weather. But he keeps pushing on.
For anyone who is having trouble getting through their day or wondering where they can find hope, I think sometimes you need to look no further than the small, seemingly insignificant things that we often disregard or do not take time to observe.
You can find inspiration in even the smallest of things.
I've Been Asleep for a Long, Long Time - Hey Rosetta!
I think that what young me liked most about these two clips was that it made me feel good inside to know that there are small things that tie us all together. It doesn't matter where you live, what colour you are or whether you're rich or poor, every person on the planet sleeps and eats. That's still what I like about these clips.
But even at that age, I had the unfortunate realization that not everyone was treated equally in society, even though we're all created equally and we're all one and the same. Everyone eats, but not everyone has access to food all of the time. Everyone sleeps, but not everyone has a comfy bed to sleep in.
Even though these clips were designed for a young audience, I think they have one of the most important lessons a person can learn in life embedded in them. We're all the same. We have many differences, whether it be physically, mentally, or of opinion. But regardless of those differences, when we look deep down, we are the same on many levels.
It's my wish that everyone could see those clips and maybe come to the same conclusion, and then we could eradicate our conflicts with each other. Wishful thinking.
These clips came to mind when I was on my way home from my shift at work on Sunday. I saw a man running down my street. For as long as I can remember, this man has ran past my house every day, rain or shine.
No matter how much my life has changed in the last few years for the better or the worse, whether it be by losing people close to me, trying to figure out what my role on this earth is or simply growing up, he's still ran past my house every day like clockwork. And maybe it's because I'm a creature of habit and familiarity but I find it pretty damn crazy that even as your life is changing before your eyes, some things never change.
I think in a lot of ways this running man also represents determination. I've seen him run in some nasty weather. But he keeps pushing on.
For anyone who is having trouble getting through their day or wondering where they can find hope, I think sometimes you need to look no further than the small, seemingly insignificant things that we often disregard or do not take time to observe.
You can find inspiration in even the smallest of things.
I've Been Asleep for a Long, Long Time - Hey Rosetta!
Friday, July 3, 2009
Street Sleeper
An article by Ethan Baron was published in The Province, a small daily out of BC, on June 4th, 2009 titled "Lock up the addicts until they're clean".
The online version indicates it was published under the Health section of the paper but doesn't specify whether the piece is opinion or not. Given that I'm not familiar with the columnist or the paper for that matter, I won't go futher with that. But I do have some serious qualms with what the columnist is trying to say.
The article is about the social chaos going on right now on the Downtown East Side of Vancouver, which I've blogged about a few times on here.
Baron argues, as the title suggests, that we should lock up all of the addicts on the DTES and force treatment upon them. His logic is that forcing them to be clean would save more money than is being poured into the area now for policing and other services that the homeless take advantage of everyday.
While there may not be much logic to the situation on the DTES as Baron says, I also don't think there is much logic to his solution either.
First of all, while many of the people on the DTES are addicted, they also face a number of other issues. Many face mental health issues which aren't going to go away with simple treatment. If it was that simple, addiction wouldn't exist in our society.
Second, while it is easy to force someone to become clean by detoxing them, or locking them up, that's not going to erase the addiction. Therapy might, but that requires the person to be willing and ready to tackle whatever issues are behind their addictions. And as one of the officers in Baron's story admits, many of these people do have underlying issues which has resulted in the addiction.
So, say that we lock up all of the addicts on the DTES. And we'll say that they detox so technically they are leaving treatment chemical-free. What then? While there are many services in the DTES to help people put their lives back together and find employment, where are they going to live? Certainly short-term housing isn't an issue in the DTES, but long-term housing is. And of course, all of this requires a person motivated to leave a life of addiction and poverty.
I've spoken to people directly involved in the community while researching for a piece I wrote back in March about the problem. The main consensus with all of the people I talked to was that the first step to addressing the issues in the DTES is safe housing. For someone trying to rebuild their life and stay off of drugs, if you can't afford to live somewhere in which you can maintain your dignity, it's rough.
But, alas, there is not one easy fix to the DTES. Just as there is no easy fix for kicking addiction. While programs like InSite, Vancouver's controversial safe injection site, do not necessarily intend to send every addict that walks through the door into detox or treatment, they offer a piece of dignity to these people. Yes, they're injecting drugs, but they're not doing it in a dirty alleyway and the risk of overdose or AIDS is reduced.
The thing that struck me the most when I was reading this article by Baron is something that Mark Townsend of The Portland Hotel Society told me when I was doing research for my DTES article. He told me that developing a sense of community is important to the DTES. A neighbourhood of poor people doesn't have to be a negative thing. Addiction, of course is a negative thing, but the fact that many overlook is that the DTES doesn't consist entirely of addicts.
As far as I'm concerned, poverty is just as big of an issue as addiction in this country, and that needs to be solved before we can take on the issues of this community and the issues of addiction. Give them safe housing, support and treatment for those who face addictions or other issues, and perhaps a change will happen.
But you can't "fix" anything if they're going to back to sleeping on the street or in dilapidated, overpriced and unsanitary housing. I think that's the one thing that Baron overlooks in his article.
You can lock up the addicts which will provide a band-aid fix, but if you want to solve the problem permanently, you must address the issue of poverty and everything that goes with that.
Everyone has their opinion on how we should tackle a community that faces a challenge like the DTES. Mine is that people need to bloom where they are. Turn a negative into a positive and build a strong community.
And that's why I had trouble digesting Baron's take on the situation.
Street Sleeper, Grand Theft Bus
The online version indicates it was published under the Health section of the paper but doesn't specify whether the piece is opinion or not. Given that I'm not familiar with the columnist or the paper for that matter, I won't go futher with that. But I do have some serious qualms with what the columnist is trying to say.
The article is about the social chaos going on right now on the Downtown East Side of Vancouver, which I've blogged about a few times on here.
Baron argues, as the title suggests, that we should lock up all of the addicts on the DTES and force treatment upon them. His logic is that forcing them to be clean would save more money than is being poured into the area now for policing and other services that the homeless take advantage of everyday.
While there may not be much logic to the situation on the DTES as Baron says, I also don't think there is much logic to his solution either.
First of all, while many of the people on the DTES are addicted, they also face a number of other issues. Many face mental health issues which aren't going to go away with simple treatment. If it was that simple, addiction wouldn't exist in our society.
Second, while it is easy to force someone to become clean by detoxing them, or locking them up, that's not going to erase the addiction. Therapy might, but that requires the person to be willing and ready to tackle whatever issues are behind their addictions. And as one of the officers in Baron's story admits, many of these people do have underlying issues which has resulted in the addiction.
So, say that we lock up all of the addicts on the DTES. And we'll say that they detox so technically they are leaving treatment chemical-free. What then? While there are many services in the DTES to help people put their lives back together and find employment, where are they going to live? Certainly short-term housing isn't an issue in the DTES, but long-term housing is. And of course, all of this requires a person motivated to leave a life of addiction and poverty.
I've spoken to people directly involved in the community while researching for a piece I wrote back in March about the problem. The main consensus with all of the people I talked to was that the first step to addressing the issues in the DTES is safe housing. For someone trying to rebuild their life and stay off of drugs, if you can't afford to live somewhere in which you can maintain your dignity, it's rough.
But, alas, there is not one easy fix to the DTES. Just as there is no easy fix for kicking addiction. While programs like InSite, Vancouver's controversial safe injection site, do not necessarily intend to send every addict that walks through the door into detox or treatment, they offer a piece of dignity to these people. Yes, they're injecting drugs, but they're not doing it in a dirty alleyway and the risk of overdose or AIDS is reduced.
The thing that struck me the most when I was reading this article by Baron is something that Mark Townsend of The Portland Hotel Society told me when I was doing research for my DTES article. He told me that developing a sense of community is important to the DTES. A neighbourhood of poor people doesn't have to be a negative thing. Addiction, of course is a negative thing, but the fact that many overlook is that the DTES doesn't consist entirely of addicts.
As far as I'm concerned, poverty is just as big of an issue as addiction in this country, and that needs to be solved before we can take on the issues of this community and the issues of addiction. Give them safe housing, support and treatment for those who face addictions or other issues, and perhaps a change will happen.
But you can't "fix" anything if they're going to back to sleeping on the street or in dilapidated, overpriced and unsanitary housing. I think that's the one thing that Baron overlooks in his article.
You can lock up the addicts which will provide a band-aid fix, but if you want to solve the problem permanently, you must address the issue of poverty and everything that goes with that.
Everyone has their opinion on how we should tackle a community that faces a challenge like the DTES. Mine is that people need to bloom where they are. Turn a negative into a positive and build a strong community.
And that's why I had trouble digesting Baron's take on the situation.
Street Sleeper, Grand Theft Bus
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