Being the healthy kid

Some of you may already be nodding your head in acknowledgement of what comes next. For the rest of you, allow me to explain what I mean by being the healthy kid.

My brother Peter was diagnosed with kidney disease some 15 years ago. Since then, he's had an organ transplant, lived through a thyroid cancer scare, survived the failure of the borrowed kidney (after 10 years), reinitiated dialysis, and taken more medication than most people have seen in a lifetime.

Not surprisingly, my brother's illness created an imbalance in our house. Not an imbalance of love - my parents love me almost too much, trust me - but an imbalance of attention. I have always understood that this is the way it has to be, because my brother does require more attention that I do.

I get it. I really do.
I cannot imagine what it's like to have a child who is sick or has special needs.
And I certainly cannot understand what it's like to accept the fact that your body is comprised by forces outside your control. That your life span has been shortened. That you may never see your kids grow up.

But this understanding doesn’t mitigate the mixed bag of emotions that comes with being the healthy kid in the family.

What I do want to point out is that most healthy kids have been told the following (or similar):

• "We don't worry about you, you're fine!"
• "Why are you so glum? You're healthy - you should be happy!"
• "You can't blame your brother for that - he's not well."
• "We can't that day, sweetheart, we have to take care of something for your brother."
• "Try to be more understanding, please."

Your reaction tends to vary. You might agree. Or you might feel disappointed. Sometimes you get tired of carrying such heavy parental expectations. And sometimes you even get angry that your sib gets this Get Out of Jail Free card.

Then of course you feel guilty for thinking your sib has an advantage, but the guilt is a whole story in itself.

I am very familiar with the sick feeling that rises in the pit of your stomach when you see the situation from afar... You, healthy, rosy-faced and your sibling standing next to you, sallow, tired, round-shouldered. That you should be in health when you have no children to take care of, no responsibilities.

Like I said, it's a mixed bag of emotions. Neither good nor bad. Just there.

Above all, please know that this was not written as a pity plea. It is neither a reprimand to my parents, nor a warning to other parents who may have a sick or special needs child in their family.

It was written mostly as a reminder to other healthy kids that yes, your feelings still count. You get so accustomed to stuffing your feelings in your pocket that you forget to take them out every once in a while for some fresh air.

So don't be afraid to ask for a little attention and compassion when you need it. You're allowed. Really.

Tips for writing clever status lines

Isn't there a saying about fish and feeding a man for a lifetime? So...

Browsers just wanting a fish, go here for ready-made Facebook status lines.
Browsers wanting a fishing lesson, continue reading...

1) Take the title or lyrics of your favourite song and put yourself in the action. This is also applicable to band names.

• Ex. Alexei is livin' on a prayer.
• Ex. Alexei says party, you say die!
  

2) Reuse popular slogans and well-known lines from television.

• Ex. Alexei is just doing it.
• Ex. Alexei would like to buy a vowel.
  

3) The words and antics of Jerry Seinfeld, George Costanza, et al are always useful.

• Ex. Alexei says 'no soup for you!'
• Ex. Alexei says they're real and they're spectacular!
• Ex. Alexei double dipped.

Are these helpful to anyone? Let me know...

Ms Julie returns home, sweet home

The train that I am currently on (VIA Rail train 668, Toronto-Montréal) is scheduled to stop in every village and hamlet between here and home. Thankfully, it is mostly populated by mid-term plagued students so the ambience is fairly quiet, leaving me plenty of time to bring you…

Highlights from The Word on The Street Festival! WHEE!

• Neil Bissoondath read to me.
• Peter Dubé, Andrew Hood and I posed in orange porta-potties.
• I beat up Derek Webster with copies of Maisonneuve magazine (the irony…)

Check out Ms. Julie’s blog for upcoming photos of the non-stop fun and hijinks.

Other random notes from my trip to Toronto:

• The Royal York Fairmount has fancy, lemony-scented toiletries that you will soon be able to see in my own humble water closet – but only during the Holidays and other special occasions.

• Hakim Optical must refresh their logo. I don’t care how catchy a TV jingle they use. Judging by the style of the glasses in the logo, as well as the psychedelic orange neon lighting, I must assume that they’ve had the same brand image since 1974.

• The squirrels in the Osgoode Hall gardens* are admittedly quite cute. Whether they are worthy of having two different sets of German tourists videotaping them is another story. Don’t they have squirrels in Germany? I pity the fools who get suckered into watching that footage (“Look Helmut! See the way they sit on their hind legs! Like humans! Amazing!”).

• On the train out, I was sitting behind a group of Japanese tourists whose members made themselves conspicuous by (respectively) visiting the bathroom frequently, taking pictures of… well, everything, and wearing a white surgical mask. The Michael-Jackson-esque mask raised two important questions: (1) Was she wearing it because she wanted to protect us from whatever contagious illness she had? Or (2) was she wearing it to protect herself from the insidious diseases we all must be carrying? As the voyage wore on, she lost all credibility when she started to wear it only intermittedly, and then eschewed it altogether when she stepped onto the sooty platform at Toronto’s Union Station. Go figure.

The juice is getting low on my laptop and we’ve barely reached the outskirts of Belleville**. Ugh.

---------------
*I always make a stop in the Osgoode Hall gardens because Reggie surely visited the grounds during her honeymoon trip in late 1898 or early 1899.
**”Hey Mel! I can’t see you but I think I spot a Timmy’s from the train station!”

Ms Julie arrives in Toronto

Ms. Julie's second foray to the Queen’s City was a smashing success.

I departed on Saturday afternoon (I didn’t want to miss yoga!), arriving in Toronto a few minutes shy of nine o’clock. The sidewalks were already crawling with young beauties in too-high stilettos and college boys in their pressed white shirts hoping to make the best of this Saturday night.

A soft drizzle kept all our feet swiftly moving towards shelter. I love Toronto on a rainy night when the sidewalks glisten and clouds of fog mask the tops of skyscrapers. Although I didn’t have an umbrella, I chose to walk to the vegan restaurant I had already chosen for my dinner, covering the ground between York/Front and Queen/Spadina as rapidly as possible.

Equipped with newspaper and notepad, I enjoyed my dinner at Fressen’s bar, chatting occasionally with the dreaded-out barman and eavesdropping on the conversations of young, pretty Torontonians as they communally rehashed their lives. Or compared workout regimens. Or debated the colour scheme at their upcoming wedding.

The food was very good, blending beautifully with the chai latte that accompanied me home.

And then, like any girl with a week’s worth of tired tugging on her shoulders and a super swank hotel room, I spent the rest of my Sattie immersed in a soft bank of white duvet, occasionally poking my nose out to catch an SNL skit on the ridiculously large TV.

After all, Ms. Julie needed to look fresh for her photo shoots on Sunday.

The writer's dilemma

I recently ran an experiment on myself (don't worry - I was fully informed and gave my unequivocal consent). I called a one-week social moratorium, in which I kept the two appointments I had previously made and declined any other offers. I filled my evenings with writing - or rather revising of Chapters 5 and 6.

It was such a success that I extended it another week, using the time to prepare for the Shuck launch, finish my book review, and blog. I was so happy! The writing was flowing, my hair was shinier and I was sleeping like a kitten.

And yet... This week, I was once again sidetracked by dinners, wine and The Wire. Oof! Crazy thing is - I really love writing regularly. It feels good. It suits me. But I also need human contact.

So the conclusion is - either I give up writing entirely (not bloody likely) or I convince a lovely boy to join me in my writerly life. The two of us could sit quietly for hours on end, each one working away at our pet projects, before looking up at the clock sometime past midnight, giving the other a peck goodnight and then tumbling into bed as one word-weary self.

Sleeping in might also have to fit into the equation, but I could be flexible on that point. Maybe.

And for your flashback of the day, I bring you The Cure... because it's Wednesday (stay in bed).

A bicyclist's lament

Now that I live in the Plateau and am no longer dependent on a car to get me around, I've discovered the joys of bicycling to the office, the studio, the library, the movies... My greatest pleasure lately is pedalling through city streets softened by the night and the cold, the moon reflecting on my handlebars as I hum my way all the way home.

But I have a few complaints I would like to air out. Put on your helmets, people.

• However misguided your parents may have been on other matters, your mother was right on one point: Look both ways before crossing the street. If I see one more person step out into the street with no concern as to whether or not they're in the path of an oncoming bike - or car - I just may forget to swerve. Older Asian women seem to be particularly prone to this behaviour. Just stop. All of you.

• "Hey you! Guy on the bike with your headphones on... Stop listening to music while cycling, you tool!" I don't care if you're Montreal's karaoke champion and your title is at stake, there is absolutely no good reason to have your iPod on while navigating city streets. The nice thing about cars and other cyclists is that they make noise. Give yourself a fighting chance - make sure you can hear them coming. Or risk depriving this world of your heartfelt rendition of "Unbreak my heart".

• Also, a quick note to the lovers spotted earlier tonight on St.Laurent south of Rachel. I know that we common people can never understand the depth and beauty of your love - and that frankly, we're all just jealous anyway - but do you really think it's a good idea to ride side by side on a major thoroughfare? I know how important it is for you to stare deeply into one another's eyes at all times, but maybe do it in a way that won't endanger your lives and the lives of other cyclists behind you just wanting to get home from yoga and have dinner already.

• And while I'm at it, "Hey Westmount SUVs! Yes, I know you're from Westmount, I recognise your parking stickers! Please refrain from weaving in and out of lanes as you look for parking, because if one of your lot cuts me off one more time, I may have to accidentally fall on your pricey car with my scratchy bike. I don't care if you're dizzy from hunger, feverish with anticipation at the meal you'll soon enjoy at a trendy Plateau eatery, you're annoying the rest of the universe.

Whoo... There, I feel better...

Ms. Julie does Toronto. Again.

Ms. Julie will once again be wowing crowds in Toronto this Sunday, September 28 at The Word on the Street Festival. If you're in the neighbourhood - Come by! Say hello! See a show with me!