Sweetheart

August 20, 2014November 10, 2014 / smithei / 1 Comment

I’ve been with my husband for such a long time that I sometimes forget that my thoughts aren’t automatically transmitted to him. “What, you never told me that,” is a common phrase in our household and the level of exasperation varies depending on the severity of what I failed to communicate. He is many things but a telepath is not one of them. This is just one example of what happens to many longterm couples, when you become inextricably linked beyond the marriage certificate. It’s also where the potential for push-back happens when one or both of you might want a different version of yourselves to try on for size. Often the healthiest way to counter that is to have lives outside of your union, different interests and hobbies that allow you to bring something back to the table. When you don’t exist solely for each other.

I can’t believe I’m actually about to write about figure skaters but whatever, it’s something that came to mind recently and I want to see the thoughts through. The Sochi winter olympics has decreased my productivity precisely because a certain Canadian dance team piqued my interest. If you don’t know whom I’m speaking of, they had a reality show, they are beautiful, talented and are mostly known for how they interact with each other. It’s safe to say that in their sport they will be remembered far beyond their amateur or professional careers because of how they changed the game. That and the fact that everyone and their mother wants them to be together. I’m pretty sure that all of Canada would break into song and dance if that ever happened. I get it. They are two physically attractive individuals who clearly adore each other, however they deem to label their relationship. We all want the rom-com ending of after knowing each other for seventeen years and being business partners, they end up falling in love. I mean, Andrew and I have been romantically involved for fifteen and we get the same reaction when we tell people our story. Their eyes light up as if our life is one long Nora Ephron script. Shortly after marriage our friend M stated that we were proof that love lasts. The fact that we’re high school sweethearts give us street cred.

But here’s the real deal. That type of history makes it tricky and taking it to the next level either works or it doesn’t. Even if you decide to try, it can be hard to maintain a spark amongst such familiarity. For the said pair that I speak of, they met each other when they were babies, fine not infants but 7 and 9 are close enough. After having to become adults at a young age by committing to being high performing athletes, they probably understand each other in a way that no one else can. However, finishing each other’s sentences does not mean that you would work as a couple. History cannot always hold its own against distinct socio-economic backgrounds and temperaments. Sometimes stories like these are best left in the platonic zone, where you can be best buds forever. That’s so much more sustainable. So all those romantics, myself included, need to sit the hell down. Because why muck up such a beautiful connection with messy feelings? They and their story are far too pretty for that.

Also, no one knows what’s precisely going on with them so me and my gossip radar are calling it a day.

Wanderlust

August 18, 2014November 10, 2014 / smithei / Leave a comment

When it comes to traveling I’ve always believed that you had to have been there. How do feelings and “moveable feasts” become words? Concepts of embodiment and experience are rarely express articulately. That is why I always try to resist the temptation to go on and on about a trip. This is one way, amongst others, that social media has enhanced our lives. On Facebook you can skip through an album at your own pace without having to commit to a lengthy description of each meal or landmark.

I understand why people love to share these images and anecdotes. They want to relive these moments themselves. There are few thrills more satisfying than the start of a journey when you’ve just placed the luggage on the scale, have the ticket in hand and you are off to someplace new. The limitation lies in the fact that you can’t pack your friends or relatives into those duffle bags. Even if you wanted to they probably have other things to do. The best part of traveling draws from the nuances but I think everyone appreciates the bigger picture, the Coles notes versions. Because really, even if you drew them a detailed map of your whole experience it would never capture it or do it justice. And they probably still have those other things to do.

Not many of us can afford to indulge every whim or seat sale. This is when travel accounts can fill that void, can feed that hunger to be someplace else. There are so many books out there that you can pick one for every flight of fancy but they all vary in the quality of writing and how the narrative is presented. But what draws us to them in the first place is the emotional trigger that sets these individuals off on their adventures. Because we’ve probably all felt a familiar pull, many of us just bury it. Traumas often lead us to seek solace where we are unknown and anonymous. You know the Billie Holiday song about “seeing you in all the old familiar places?” This is precisely the type of nightmare you try to avoid. In the midst of a personal crisis, you don’t want to walk down the street past every restaurant or movie theatre that’s hosted your date nights.

There are a couple of travel books that take us on these types of journeys particularly well. One of the most well-known is “Eat, Pray, Love” which is Elizabeth Gilbert’s attempt to come to terms with her divorce and temper her desire to always be in a relationship. In all three sites of Italy, India and Bali she actively uses the surroundings to heal her heart in some shape or form. Nothing is recognizable and so she is able to meditate on these major life changes and strategize where she wants to go from there. My only critique is that ashrams and palm trees can only get you so far. In the end you still have to face yourself in the mirror and be okay with your choices. You need to draw from within, not the external environment. Because you know, beauty can also wound the heart.

“The Lost Girls” by Baggett, Corbett and Pressner details the adventures of three friends quitting their jobs, leaving their significant others and taking off to “grow” as individuals abroad. This is all great and good but somehow I feel that their stories are a bit different. The best part of traveling is being taken out of your comfort zone and having to make new friends. You don’t necessarily have to flex these muscles when you have your best friends right there with you and two other people to be your sounding boards. But I love the intention behind it. The bravest people are those who take those steps that everyone in their social circle deems to be a mistake. It’s not an escape, it’s just a break from your life. Living so that the mundane becomes beautiful again.

The last two books I’ll discuss both take place in Paris and their perspectives of the city differ precisely because of their varying realities and approaches. In “Paris my sweet” by Amy Thomas she literally seems to wish that Paris would fit into her vision of what the city should be. Needless to say she is often disappointed. Places are to be adapted to, not changed. They don’t exist to meet your expectations. Comparatively in “Paris Letters” Janice Macleod wants to make her time there work, in spite of the inconveniences. She also seems to be sassy and recognize that not everyone is inherently nice. I do qualify all this by saying that one found love and the other didn’t. Not that it matters but the author of “Paris my sweet” literally documents her many romantic frustrations so I feel like it plays a role in her perception of the place. Sometimes I wondered, girl, are you eating all of those pastries because you want to or because you are sad? I appreciated this vulnerability because travelling is not one long party. There are instances when you are definitely lonely. Sure, not giving a fuck gives you so much freedom. But in turn no one really has to care about you either. Well at least not at the depth that you’re probably used to.

I always reach my limit on a holiday when I’m tired of looking at beautiful things. I cannot wait to get back to the daily routine when my purpose consisted of more than just enjoyment. This is always my reminder that life is pretty damn good. Because I want to return to it.

Lighthouse

August 15, 2014November 10, 2014 / smithei / Leave a comment

You will be astounded by the kindness of others when you are expecting your first child. They will throw you parties, knit you afghans and you wonder how you came to be so blessed with such good people in your life. Trust me, you pinch yourself more than once. What no one talks about at the baby shower is what I call the ‘fog.’ They don’t mention the fear and confusion that can dot the landscape of those first few months. No one will bring up how absolutely shitty times can be. Now, I’m not speaking of post-partum depression or those who only experience fairy tales and butterflies (really?) but that place in between where most of us end up. When things aren’t bad but they aren’t good either.

I call it ‘the fog’ because this phase is characterized by the struggle to form coherent thoughts and sentences. When you’re in the midst of this haze you can forget about analyzing theoretical frameworks and writing it all down. Now, I rely on critical thinking to complete my degree and this wasn’t exactly the best place to be. Suffice it to say, I was discombobulated. Feeling like you’re slowly losing parts of yourself is never pleasant. I only resurfaced and reclaimed my brain precisely when childcare was sorted, when qualified and beautiful women helped to raise my son at daycare. When these role models loved and kissed him so that I could work. This post is for them and for my early childhood educator who played a vital role in forming the individual I am today.

My former nanny usually only stays with children till they are four years old. This is strategically sound. They don’t remember her too well but are old enough to occupy themselves after nursery school and to hang out with the housekeepers. She stayed with me for two extra years and although they were wonderful, it added to the trauma when she walked away. I still remember pushing desperately at the locked gate, when I kept calling her name. She never turned around and only got further away. Her name is Moe Moe, and she is a strong, brilliant, kind woman. When she attended my second wedding reception in Yangon and I held her hand, I was happy and whole.

So all you politicians, help a sister out and invest in child care. Help women recognize themselves again and contribute to society in a positive manner. To all those North Toronto mothers, treat your Filipino nannies well. Don’t yell at her on the street. She’s a grown-ass woman and trust, it does not reflect well on you. Give her respect, a home, a room with a view and remember that she left her children to help you. That she’s a mother too.

New

August 13, 2014November 10, 2014 / smithei / Leave a comment

I find that cliches become honest when they are spoken with such heart. Especially when they are attached to earnest and articulate 22 year olds. “I figure I was born alone, I’m not afraid to die alone either,” said a fellow commuter on why he wasn’t looking to enter another serious relationship, for now. Who knew that riding the subway would provide such richness. Wow, I certainly did not have this grounded sense of self in my early twenties. The only thing of consequence I did at this age was get my essays in on time and even that was sometimes a challenge.

At the core of his contemplation is something that we all fear: to end up on our own. There is such stigma attached to not following the normative timeline for life’s goals. Having a hard time finding a partner to love and one to love you back is often deemed to be a huge misstep. But what are we willing to sacrifice, what parts of ourselves are we willing to compromise to not look like a fool? Which you aren’t by the way. The reminders mostly come through social rituals of holiday dinners where you’re told to celebrate in packs. The greetings arrive with matching sweaters, smiles and altered teeth. These are the postcards that some long to send and are willing to commit to empty relationships to obtain that facade. They long to put up the appearance of the perfect life.

Gwen Stefani in the song “New” begs, “don’t let it go away, this feeling has got to stay.” The lyrics are relatable precisely because we all know that the electricity of discovering someone new will not remain. All new things eventually become old. I don’t think we could survive that form of excitement for the long run. Passion becomes comfort to be more sustainable, to allow your heart to pace itself. Wouldn’t we all end up in padded rooms otherwise? How much fighting and make-up sex can one really take?

But asking the “what ifs” is perfectly common. When the urgency wanes you wonder if someone else could help you reclaim and maintain that spark. It’s the tail of the dragon that we continually chase. That first hit. Like the protagonist in the Italian film The Last Kiss realizes, the hard way I might add, that exploring those questions can make you end up with a wreckage where your life had been. Kissing that young, reckless thing was not worth losing someone who actually understands you. History builds the rapport and unconditional support and losing that hurts like hell. You also ask yourself, who exactly is left “out there”? Is there someone who you would actually want to devote yourself to? Are you equally worthy of each other? Maybe. But I think that’s the gamble you take. If you do decide to leave and make your own way, you know that there is the chance that you might end up alone. That there might not be a whole lot of other people whom you want to take your clothes off for. Cause really, if you don’t want to see each other naked what is the point?

Guy

August 11, 2014November 10, 2014 / smithei / Leave a comment

There is nothing more valuable than having a guy in your life whom you don’t want to sleep with. I’m so busy wanting everyone to fall in love that I forget that there are more stable options. Without the complications of romantic feelings your guy friend can be your greatest asset and this type of connection can always remain. Well, as long as you don’t make-out at a party and things become awkward. I’m not saying that lines cannot be blurred (yuck, Robin Thicke). I can hear the naysayers now, guy and girls can never be just friends. I see it more like a colour gradient. There are some that you could cross the boundary for and others that you just do not see in that way and never will. For example, my friend S once asked me in undergrad, a couple of beers into the evening, if I would ever sleep with a certain mutual friend. I replied, yes, if I was drugged. I honestly don’t mean to be rude or unkind, nor am I making light of the date-rape drug. These are just the kind of flippant things you say in the your twenties. But the material point is that I just am not attracted to him in the slightest. And that’s great, he will always be in my life as a buddy.

I’m all for having girlfriends, the bond you have together is limitless and unconditional. You can engage with them in a way that you can never with your partner and they will be there far longer than any boy. These are the individuals who were witness to all of your lapses in judgement and still spoke to you the next day. They have your back. But a guy friend can educate you in a different way. They can shoot the shit.

I often feel that my view of romantic relationships will forever be stuck in 1998, frozen at the age of sixteen. It’s not that this idealistic naiveté has not been stomped on in several slightly mortifying instances, just that it seemingly cannot die and therefore is probably here to stay. But along the way I’ve become smarter and I mostly credit the men in my life for this knowledge. So here are three integral things that I’ve learnt from my platonic man friends. Dudes, I’m grateful.

One, guys play the game just as much as we do. Jesus Christ, how many different types of “hanging out” can there be? It hurts my head how many definitions there are to sleeping together. Sorry for my simplicity but I much preferred the clarity of high school when you were with someone or you weren’t. You like them or you don’t. What is there to figure out?

Two, in spite of the nuances of their intentions, men act in fairly straightforward ways. If they want to be with you, they will be with you. So often we believe that difficulty signifies a deeper relationship. But the more of I’ve seen of this dance, the more I see the choreographed steps. It really should not be that hard, and if it is well, there might be a reason.

Three, it’s all about timing. Who you were a couple of years ago might not have made this match a compatible one. Many a pair are formed later, when conditions are right. Finally you are both at a similar place and phase of life. When you’ve both seen enough. The sweet spot.

Although valuable, these lessons have just strengthened my resolve to be romantic. What’s better than feeling that while so many factors do go into making a partnership work, at the end of the day it’s just about being with someone. It doesn’t get more simple than that.

Label maker

August 8, 2014November 10, 2014 / smithei / 2 Comments

There are times when I feel like my husband is a robot and I’ll have to change his batteries ever so often. Whenever I’m in a huff he tells me not take it personally. This is when I look at him, Mr. heterosexual, tall, white male and raise my eyebrows. I remind him that for some of us it is sometimes personal. When you are a racialized female with a small stature, your reality is not always so black and white. It’s not particularly shocking. He grew up in an affluent neighbourhood in Toronto, participated in athletics, played hockey and attended some of the best schools in the country. It’s not his fault that life has been pretty easy and that the world is sometimes his oyster.

People forget how transparent they really are. Why do you think we take such pleasure in reading each other and ascribing characteristics? We are all walking around with invisible post-it notes with credentials, education, beauty and desirability. We just hope that people pick-up on the labels that we value most. The reality is that the signals always get crossed and everyone is interpreting those messages with their own biases. It’s a game that no one wins.

If we viewed the world so negatively I don’t think anyone would get out of bed. What would be the point? I would rather frame this process more positively. Wasn’t there a point when we were younger that we actually took pleasure in games? When you couldn’t get your coat on fast enough and recess was never long enough? If we return to this type of exuberance I think the social transactions become more open. So what if someone misinterpreted you, you probably did the same to the gentleman three persons ago. My husband is partly correct in telling me to shake it off. These slings and arrows are never going to go away so it might be best to get a thicker skin. I’m not saying become hard. I’m just saying that these inconveniences just come with the territory. If someone doesn’t like you, go talk to someone else.

By the ounce

August 6, 2014November 10, 2014 / smithei / 2 Comments

You will never care what others think more than when you’ve had a child. The tendency to let other people influence you is usually kept in check for most other aspects of our life. But when it comes to parenting it does not let up. You’re lucky if it becomes background music and not a blaring noise. This is one instance when you hope for the Kenny G. You know those mothers who pretend that they have it all together? They are in even more trouble than the rest of us.

So why it is that we let those opinions impact the way we behave? I have a colleague named C whose son is a similar age to mine. Entering the twos I was describing all of these strategies that I’m using to counter the potential for emotional melt downs. I explained that I have a low threshold for humiliation. She laughed and said, she doesn’t, that she’d probably be rolling around on the floor with him. I loved it. She realized that I was more afraid of the people’s stares and judgements than the actual act of picking my son off of the grocery store floor. I was afraid to be deemed a terrible mother.

But you know what, I’m not a terrible mother and neither are you. Of course there are times when we are not at our finest, when we’re tired, grumpy or slightly bored. But most of us are trying our very best with the lot that we’ve been given. As mothers you’re programmed and pressured to internalize all of the advice and criticisms thrown at you. But the bearers of this enlightenment are not the ones raising your kid so try to turn them into elevator music and choose which suggestions are constructive. I hope by the time my son is ten the racket will barely be a whisper.

It all begins in the delivery room. Birth announcements cheerfully advertise the birth weight and apparently larger numbers are the goal. That one’s worth as a parent begins with an eight pound baby. When I first saw my son’s crying face I thought he was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I could not stop crying. It was only when people started to visit and worried that he was too “small” that the doubts began. He was a healthy weight considering that he was born two weeks early and the tests all demonstrated that he was in great condition. But see, you lose sight of all that as soon as society enters your hospital room. Then the doctor’s visits every three days begin and you start counting the ounces like everything depends on it. All of these measures exist to ensure the safety and well-being of the child but we’re conditioned to attribute the emotional toll as part of motherhood. That you just have to buck up. And of course supplementing your child is frowned upon. Nursing is not easy but you know what’s harder? The guilt they lay on you when you want other options to support the breastfeeding. My mother tried to reassure me and I pretended not to worry. I said that babies become men so I was fine. If only I actually believed my words. He is now a solid two year old and I feel silly for tying myself into knots before. But for any mother currently in those first few months, I just want to say, you are doing a great job. You are beautiful. Keep on keepin’ on.

Imposition

August 5, 2014November 10, 2014 / smithei / Leave a comment

My relatives maintain that Andrew is the most Burmese white man I could have chosen to marry. He eats chillies like a champ and does not even bat an eye at the condition of lavatories when you’re on a road trip in Southeast Asia. In all seriousness my love for him grew when I witnessed the ease with which he negotiated the different culture and the inner workings of my family. Apparently he holds himself and presents himself to the social world in a very “Burmese” way. And that’s amazing, we all want our partners to hold in high esteem something we value so much.

What surprises me more is that he often is more Ah-na dare than me. This term expresses the desire not to inconvenience or be an imposition to others and is a prevalent aspect of Burmese culture. The best example of this is, when someone asks you if you want something, you would commonly reply with “that’s okay.” Now, this would frustrate many Westerners and they would ask again, probably with some impatience, so, is it a yes or a no? Along the same vein is the fear of losing face. This phenomenon is the abhorrence of being embarrassed publicly. Trust me, you never want to cause anyone to lose face because there can be very real and often violent consequences. Apparently being shamed sometimes warrants pulling out a gun and serving a prison sentence. To an outsider these characteristics may seem backward or archaic but I think these anxieties are present but performed differently in the global North. We may avoid the incarceration but we try to rebuild our hurt pride through consumption, other markers of prestige or by putting others down. To some a hurt credit card and an imagined sense of superiority makes everything better. That’s lame.

Now there are some aspects of the cultural practice of not wanting to inconvenience others that I like and others that I can do without. Not wanting to be a burden encourages independence and self-sufficiency. These are character traits that are valued in North American society and will serve you well on the journey to your standards for success. However, being Ah-na dare can make you feel scared to ask for assistance or favours. I’m often at a loss for words how Andrew doesn’t ask for much. He will actually go out of his way not to ask questions, especially to strangers in a foreign country. Perhaps it’s because he’s a white male and things usually just appear for him. But if there is one thing I have learnt from being raised within Western society, it’s that no one owes you a thing. They will also not give you anything that you don’t ask for, especially if you’re a racialized individual. Although I am still hesitant about being brash and straightforward with those I admire the most, I’ve learned to just get over it. Really, the worst thing that anyone can say is “no.” There is not a whole lot to lose and the freedom that comes from fearlessness is worth everything.

Sartorial

August 1, 2014November 10, 2014 / smithei / 2 Comments

At the age of 15 my cousin K asked pointblank if I wanted to look dirty or good. This was during the grunge-phase of the mid nineties when everyone bought from thrift shops and actually compromised aspects of their personal hygiene for the sake of style. I thought about it and decided on the latter.

My relationship with fashion has always been touch and go. There were definite points in my past when I wondered if it was a phase and actually not worth spending that much time or money on. You know how many girls goes through a horse or ballet phase when their bedroom walls and dear diaries are plastered with these images? Well, I’ve come to the realization that working on one’s style is not like admiring a ballerina or a thoroughbred. It’s a life-long project that can be one of the most meaningful ones that you take on.

I never understood why people need an entourage to shop. I’ve always preferred to shop alone. It stems from the fact that after decades of trial and error I know which stores work best with the strengths of my body. I’m also particular about the quality of the products because I mostly choose classic pieces that I hope will last me several years. Therefore, I am often able to spend 30 minutes on a trip because I enter a total of 3 stores and do not even look at others. I guess you could classify this as being rigid and it’s true, I won’t discover new looks as easily. I rather frame it as not wasting my time when something works so well already. Now, this comes back to why I do not bring companions. Most people do not shop with a time clock. I also believe that fashion is all about how you carry yourself. That’s why when you’re more self-conscious about your body, looking in the mirror can be a trying experience. But, if you feel that you’ve chosen a piece that reflects who you are then you will feel beautiful, be beautiful. No one needs to support that type of feeling because it comes from within.

Now, this is what makes sartorial approaches so enjoyable. Other parts of caring for our appearance aren’t always the most pleasant. No one likes to visit their waxist but many of us still take that long walk. But with fashion, it’s an ongoing project where you get to choose and strategize. It’s beautiful.

We never work alone on these endeavours but instead constantly draw from the social world. Since my cousin’s pertinent enquiry I’ve been inspired by the New England aesthetic of clean lines and preppy conventions. I still believe in the simplicity of this approach but currently am inspired more by the French style. It’s less puritanical. If you’ve read any of my other posts I’m sure you don’t find this particularly surprising. The lines are still there but they are cut more precisely and offer a bit more bold playfulness. An example of a store that provides this look is “Club Monaco.” I’m pretty sure that every article of clothing this company produces is sewn by little fairies or magic mice. They are out of this world. So slip into something that allows you to take on the often heavy notes in this life, something that will give you the confidence to face it all with grace.

Clean

July 30, 2014November 10, 2014 / smithei / Leave a comment

For awhile now my goal has been to deal with life in simpler terms. Too bad, so sad, move on. There is something very clean about not making a fuss and finding something else to do. But rarely does hurt get compartmentalized so easily. Our hearts do not contain an attic where you tuck away your issues and junk, never to be seen again. It always resurfaces and often at the most inconvenient times when you really want to just be over it. Why do you think there are particular steps to grieving? It’s because we as humans are not wired for clean breaks.

The most common and difficult type of loss comes in the form of death. This is when there are no take-backs and we are forced to come to terms with that hole left in our lives. When I reached my late teens I started mentally preparing for losing my grandparents. You must think that it’s very strange for someone in that life phase, which is usually when most are preoccupied with relationships, sex and cigarettes, why I would be so morbid. I don’t think I was macabre, I just knew that I would need a long lead up to not fall apart when it actually happened. Because you see, my grandparents were the two best people in the world. They helped to raise me and were the ones I looked up to the most. I’ve spoken a lot of my grandmother and her radiance, but my grandfather was also very special. He was one of the good men, a gentleman. His values made him kind and he treated every single person with respect. He also loved his family dearly and was the centre of so many lives. When I started to recognize their mortality I started to detach and with every succeeding visit I engaged with them less. It’s like I was afraid to make more memories, which would make what comes later more painful. Basically I was a big jerk and I would not recommend this to anyone. Enjoy people fully while they are still here and love the one you’re with. It’s one regret I have to carry with me always.

The worst thing you can do is not mourn properly and to let go when you’re not ready. In our society being sad is made to be a pathology, but you know what, when you lose someone it’s okay to cry loudly and hard. Now, dwelling is very different from grieving. I would just say to feel as much as you need to and then try your best to move on. They’re no longer here but I guarantee that they do want you to be happy. And real sadness behaves much like a wave. Occasionally you’ll be on the bus or about to mail a letter and there will be a trigger. Perhaps you see a flower they liked or smell their cologne. Often tears will reach your eyes but it’s ok. It’s ok to remember how much you loved them. It’s probably at these moments that they are thinking of you too.