Dream Girls final draft: a letter from Courtney

Blood, sweat and tears! I will forever love this team.
Courtney is among the group of victorious captured in this shot.

Courtney is a grade 11 student who I’ve had the pleasure of coaching and teaching. She is smart, creative and humble. She’ll probably want to strangle me for saying this, but I first discovered Courtney’s awesomeness when I taught her 7^th grade English class. She wrote a story about a mermaid in a magical world, and it reeled me in. Her writing revealed heart and intuition; this was a young lady who keenly observed the world around her.

Two years later, Courtney surprised me when she joined my cheer team. Despite her quiet demeanor, she shone on the floor and behind the scenes. I have fond memories of seriously pushing her limits and proudly watching her perform.

Thank you, Courtney, for being a particularly lovely ray of sunshine. I know my students will be excited to read your kind and encouraging words. To know they’ve struck a chord in Canada is something they won’t be expecting. I hope it instills confidence in them, and confirms that their voices can and should be heard.

To anyone out there – let Courtney’s youthful wisdom be inspiration for you too, no matter your age, circumstance or location. This is what it’s all about!

Hi Hollie !

 I hope Hong Kong is treating you well. I was reading you’re Hong Kong Girls blog post and I just had to reply.

 I’m not sure what kind of response you were looking for, but I’ll give you my best one. What got me was how all these girls (who are my age) already have big plans for their lives. They wish to be strong, independent, and to create a great future. Just reading their words, I’m sure they can do these things, and go above and beyond.

 You can hear how determined they are, and they’re my age! That’s so crazy. Most girls here know what they think they want to do, too, but the difference is they don’t talk about raising a family, and how they’re going to improve whatever – so they can be a better person. Your girls want to be a good influence to the world surrounding them and the people they come across. They want to learn from their parents’ mistakes, and make a name for themselves. They want great things.

 I have no doubt it my mind that they will accomplish their goals, even go beyond them. It may not mean much, but a little Canadian girl wishes them the best of luck, and I hope you keep posting updates about them. I don’t have much advice since I can barely figure life out for myself: just some encouraging words for them:

 Don’t forget about your dreams. They won’t come easy, but they will come… If there’s a time you think you can’t, I know for a fact you can – just by reading your words.

 I may just be an emotional morning person, but I teared up reading their posts and felt a response was needed. Have a good day Hollie – hope your class does too!

 Courtney

 

 

Dream Girls: drafting our future in English class

It’s official: everyone is completely over the school year. The deep-down consensus is to wrap it up, NOWSAP. We’re all infected with a particularly vehement strain of The Mays. “Where is June?!” we cry, and that’s not the only symptom. We’re too fatigued to even faintly disguise our fatigue. I’ve stopped wearing mascara, and my straightener hasn’t been plugged in on a Thursday in weeks. I shower the night before so I can be ready and out the door in a record 12 minutes. And it’s not just me. This morning I spotted a junior form girl with a ratty looking ponytail who was sleepwalking up the stairs. I didn’t even stop her! I figured ah, the hell with it! Let her little bird’s nest be.

What has lightened my mood is a reminder that not all mornings start off with a wayward teenage boy (1st period). Sigh. Sometimes the coffee isn’t strong enough, and you need to think of the better moments you’ve had to get you through the rest. So, my thoughts are dwelling on yesterday:

In case you haven’t read, I am working on a writing project with my Form 5 (grade 11) girls. Among 20 odd Dream Girl drafts, I’ve compiled a list of written responses that struck me. I will let you draw your own conclusions. If you could, what advice would you give my students? It’d really surprise them if you responded to their writing. If you’re interested, send me an email, or an inbox to my Facebook page (if you’d rather not share your response with the world). Otherwise, feel free to post below. Dare you to share your wisdom with the next generation.

If you’re rolling your eyes at my request to actively participate – fine. You wouldn’t be the first lazy punk I encountered today. All outrage toward my bad attitude will automatically be forwarded to:

The Mays Virus

Rd. to Hell

HK in HK

000 EFFS

Before you unfriend me, let’s shift our focus back to my students:

Dream Girls

What is your dream?

What makes you special?

What are you working on?

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

I wish I could be an English teacher. It’s the career I’ve been dreaming about. My plan is clear: getting into the university and focusing on English. I was just wondering that I might find a good boyfriend in university and finally, get married. 

I would like to be a dutiful wife and daughter. I will respect my parents as well as my offspring. I’m sure I can balance my marriage and relationship with family. 

Actually, I am an ordinary girl with a kind heart. I am nice and benign to everyone around me. But, you know, some people in society is pretentious and dishonest, but I’m more warm-hearted and true to everyone, even strangers. 

What I’m working on improving is my math and liberal studies. To be honest, I’m not as smart as others think. Instead, I’m not good at both of these subjects at all. I’ll strive my best to ameliorate them. Nobody is perfect, right?  

~ C.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

I want to be a fashion designer. I think designs can improve people’s life. Also, help people solve the difficulty in their life. Although I know this is a dream, I still want it to be true.

I just want to be a successful, independent woman. And I want my own brand, just for women. 

I like mix & match. I always wear different stylish clothes. I also like D.Y.I. things, for example: my own bags. My notebook. The earring…I feel success when I design things. 

I think I should have a good communication skill and improve my drawing skills. Because, design needs good skill for drawing. And I need more creativity. 

~E.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Dreams: to be a successful, independent woman that earns a lot of money by myself. To be free to look after my parents when they becoming old. I also hope that I can travel the cities and countries alone. But it’s too hard for me to do that. Because I easily get lost and I’m afraid of ghost when I stay in a hotel alone. 

Career: Although  I like dancing, for my career, I will choose to be a nutritionist or chemist, but I love chemistry more than biology. My aim is to be a chemist, yet it is too hard to be one. I need an extremely good academic performance. Therefore, I think I will be a nutritionist. It’s more easy. 

Future: I want to get married after 32 years old. 

~A.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

I want to be a billionaire. I don’t want to be concerned about the money problem.I can buy anything – whatever I want. But seriously, I want to become an airplane hostess. It is my dream job. 

My goals is, I want to get 5** (A+) in every subject in HKDSE.

I want to be a busy, strong, independent woman. I don’t want to rely on my husband or family. I want to earn a lot of money through my successful job by myself (strength).

I think I am not a special girl. I have a lot of weaknesses. I don’t have any strength (I think), but I care about my friends. When they need me I will do anything that they want, and I’ll try my best to help them. I am stupid, I trust people easily. I want my friends to care for me like I care them.

I am going to improve my English, such as writing and speaking skill. I hope I can speak English fluently. So that I can find a great job (high salary) when I grow up!! I think English is the most important language in the world. So I hope I can speak fluent English. So I can communicate with you! 

~T.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

I want to be an accountant. It’s because I want to earn a lot of money, to lead me to have a flat, a car, to buy something I love, or to make sure my children have a good education (I think it’s important if I have children in future!) 

I want to be a successful woman, because, if you have a good career, you will not need a good man to take care of you. (Because of my Mum, that why I think). If my Mum have a good education, she don’t choose my Dad (my Dad is a bad guy, he goes to find the other women – and fall in love – don’t love my Mum). So I think to be a successful woman, may mean to choose a good man in my life. 

Moreover, I think not many things can make me special (because I don’t have any confidence). But I know I love drawing, playing the piano, and reading the novel. And writing. I think drawing and playing the piano can make me so comfortable. The important point is that it can reduce my pressure, and reading the novel can improve my writing skill. I can learn a lot of beautiful words. And now I love reading books such as The Hunger Games, Beautiful Creatures, Twilight and The House of Night. 

~L.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Dreams

I want to be a superwoman. I can do everything if  anyone needs help. Because, I don’t want to see anybody unhappy and hurt. I hope I can do everything to help people. Don’t let me feel like I am a loser. 

Grow up

I want to be a happy woman when I grow up. I want to smile every day. But sometimes I cannot do it. However, I think if I grow up, I can really contact my emotions. I won’t easily get angry with people. I won’t easily get upset with myself. So, I want to be a happy woman when I grow up.

Special

I think my special thing is my mood. I easily get angry and happy. But, I’m not fake to people. I will not lie to people. If I hate someone, I cannot smile with her or him. If I love someone, I will also let her become more happy. 

Improving 

My need to improve thing is my mood too. Because, I like to show my mood in my face. Sometimes, I will say something to hurt my friends. But, I never feel sorry! I will think it is her wrong. However, my friends will say I am wrong. Then, I will say sorry but I will never be close with her again.

~M.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

I want to be a wedding planner. Actually, I don’t have a clear purpose to think what I want to be in the future. I like to manage people and control or help people, and to receive jobs. Also, I am very creative. I like to design or create some interesting decoration. I hope I can watch the people feel happy because of my job. It will let me feel successful.

In fact, I am very stubborn and I like to do what I want. I don’t like to listen to the other people’s advice or opinion. Ihope I can change my personality to be a kind woman. Also, I hope I can be an intelligent, smart and hard-working woman. 

I like to play piano and swim. Also, I like to help people to decide how they dress up. I like to help them to be a beautiful girl. 

I want to improve my English skills. I am working hard on English because I hope I can speak fluently. Also, English is very important. I hope I can learn more words to improve my English skills. Hope I can speak English like the foreigner one day.

~V.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Who’s that Hong Kong girl?

I have to redeem myself. The previous post wasn’t exactly stellar. (Ha?) Looking back, we realized  our lax conversation read like stereotypical buffoonery, and for that we certainly do not apologize.

I  thank Tim for cleverly reminding me there is enough outrage and subsequent sorriness to fill another planet with, so let’s concede to let it slide.

Consequences schmonsemenses, I’m too busy to sweat over my occasional inability to be articulate. I’ve got youngsters to teach, and it’s crunch time. Exams are looming (again), so I’ve been banging out resources and instilling skills into their sleepy souls. I’m an enrichment machine, and I will not be stopped.

The current focus in my classroom has been brainstorming and organization – stuff I’ve always struggled with. I was the kid with the messy desk, the doodled-on binder and the excessive scramble of words (trying to pass themselves off as an essay). And that was university. I’ve always had a lot to  feel and say, and so, I could never grasp concision. Until I became a teacher.

Getting my shit together grammatically isn’t the only development my brain has undergone.  Over the years, my centre has shifted from self to student.  Or anyone in the vicinity. I’m not claiming selflessness, I’m simply admitting I spend an unhealthy amount of time concerning myself with the affairs and general state of others. It’s a teacher thing. Kate thinks it’s a Nancy Drew thing. Either way, it’s all about big love for the people in my life – the ones I keep close, and yes, even those at arm’s length. Let’s be real – you can’t teach without love. Please don’t try to prove me wrong.

I have big love for my students – especially the ones I spend a significant amount of time with. Many of them are young women, or on their way to becoming young women. Most I am proud of; others I am still getting to know. Many love me back – but some, I’m not quite sure. It ain’t always easy, and sometimes it’s too easy. I want to reach out and give them the guidance and support they need (and deserve), but I also want to push them off the edge, just so they can feel what it’s like to free fall. They’re entering a merciless workplace, one with teeth so sharp I’d be anxious to enter it myself, and I don’t know if they’re ready. As much as their education pressures and challenges, it coddles and shields as well. My students are pupils of rote learning and children of protective families,  so independence is a mysterious stranger. They should be greeting it like a familiar acquaintance, but no. I’m doing a lot of assuming here – it’s difficult for me to thoroughly communicate with my colleagues and students, so I’m often left wondering: who are these Hong Kong girls? Who do they want to be? Are they ready for the real world? What do they need from me? I usually go with instinct, and thankfully I have the freedom to do that.

My lovelies. Next time scrunch more, though. I don’t think they know that word. Damn.

Today my panel head was out, so she asked if I’d  cover her lesson. “You take the girls – so much easier! More fun for you – and them.” Although I enjoy teaching boys (they’re no-fuss gentlemen), I love to get the girls for an hour or two. It’s not often I can probe their brains and get a peek into their reality. Sometimes we get straight to work on exam skills, but there are moments when I know they need something different, or when I do, and today was one of those days.

I had lessons prepared, but a coffee buzz and a confidence I owe to a rare, yet ban- on fashion choice  (thanks, self) — inspired me to morph into that crazed and eccentric English teacher most of us cringe at, yet adore, and years later (after a two glasses of wine and a mini epiphany) ….finally understand. So off I went, furiously scribbling plan b on the board. Instead of drilling, we would draft, and it wasn’t going to be about social issues or pop culture or workplace communication.

As they filed in neatly, arranging their desks in an immaculate semi-circle (they are professional perfectionists), they stared at the board with a mix of amusement and trepidation.

I explained with a Jerry Maguire flare I reserve for special occasions of unpreparedness. When they responded with their signature deadpan, I queried: “Do you think this activity is weird?” I asked, looking at Cindy, the brightest in the class, who was covering her mouth, giggling.

“Yes!” She admitted, embarrassed but kind of excited, like she was getting away with a silly prank.

“Good”, I said – “Weird means different, and we need that sometimes. Yes?”

No answers. Blank stares. Shifting in seats, mumbling and digging into pencil cases.

As I took attendance, they copied this sap from the board :

Embracing the strange.

Dream Girls

• What do you want to be? (Dreams, crazy ideas, goals, career and life plans)
• What kind of woman do you want to be? (kind, intelligent, selfless, ambitious, worldly, creative)
• What makes you special? (Personality, talents)
• What are you working on? (improvements – academics, attitude, relationships, responsibilities)

After explaining some vocab and convincing them this would be a legitimate writing task, they set to work. At first I endured a tangle of whispers that suspiciously sounded like doubt. It’s not every day these girls are asked to consider their own thoughts and feelings. They’re more concerned with tutorial class and the next physics test. But that’s nothing a little sternness and encouragement in the form of eye contact won’t fix. After 4 minutes, they were all scribbling quietly. Score.

Now? I have a pile of first drafts on my desk, and guess who is going to read a selection of it?

You.

Until tomorrow.

*I dedicate this writing project to all of my female students and athletes, past and present. If it weren’t for you, where would I be? Who would I be? Most definitely lacking purpose and joy in my life. Big love to you all.

The first draft of the rest of your life.  Or a polite effort to appease me. Either way I’m happy.

How Canadians thrive in Hong Kong: Conversations with a Christopher (Part I)

Chris at the Hong Kong Dog Rescue with his new friend who did not want to leave the dog park. When it was time to go home, this pup was found hiding behind a park bench. Strategically.

I recently managed to pry Chris’s face from NHL playoff propaganda and collect his scattered musings about life in Hong Kong. We originally set out to pit HK culture up against our East Coast Canadian roots, but as most of our little talks go, it manifested into  a sprawling convo. Between tea breaks and iPhone distractions, and a tasty plate of nachos, we managed to record some great material. It’s raw, folks, and it’s general. Vast.  I bet you’ll appreciate an organic (I just used that as an adjective) display of our ever-evolving thoughts as Canadians who strive to thrive in HK.

Hollie: Are you ready?

Chris: No.

Hollie: OK first we’re going to talk about language…

Chris: But that’s boring!

Hollie: …

Chris: OK.

Hollie:  Do you think there is a balance of languages in Hong Kong? Between Cantonese and English. And Mandarin. And then there’s more. But, the main ones.

Chris: No. So, people think the standard of English has gone down since Hong Kong was returned to China. Since the handover in ’97. But the younger generations’ standard of English is still high, because of the influence of western culture, mostly. I think. But then, the more local districts are dominated by Chinese culture. Cantonese culture. Signage, restaurants – everything. But in the more central districts, business districts – English is available and very present. Example – If you go to a fishing village, the chances of speaking to someone in English are pretty slim, but go to Central or Causeway Bay, and it’s full of westerners and English is everywhere.

Hollie: Yes. My school’s district is pretty local. It’s hard to get a taxi to drive me anywhere, so if I’m making a special trip, I get my coworkers to write it out in Chinese. Just in case. And I can say certain Cantonese words when I have to. But when we go to the popular districts to eat and have a night out – it’s like, a different world, really. Almost. Sometimes.Mostly.

Chris: Yeah, but it’s not a duality here, like English and French in Canada. Cantonese is dominant. That’s the local language. There are so many expats living here – there’s a huge western presence. But…it’s Cantonese here. Featuring English. Regularly.

Hollie: How would you describe the attitude toward English – in a Cantonese culture?

Chris: Well, English is revered here. It’s the universal language for business and education. The older generations of Hong Kongers don’t have a great need for English, but, I still don’t find they discriminate against people. As much as they could – you know. They are used to English, even if they don’t speak it. It’s been here for so long.

English is important, but it varies. It’s taught as a semi-important subject in lower banding schools – like yours, but it’s not really as significant as people would think. For everyday people. As a second language. But, in higher banding schools, yeah – English is important in the way that French is important in reputable immersion programmes in Canada. Moreso. Becoming fluent in English is crucial in terms of academic and… economic gain. Not everyone has it on their agenda though – they can’t do it.

Hollie: Like kids in my school.

Chris: Exactly. And well the exams…

Hollie: Exam culture. Yes. Passing the big English exam. All of the exams.

Hollie: What is your stance on Chinglish?

Chris: (Laughing) I commend their effort to speak a second language to a native speaker.

I think Chinglish is accepted for the simplicity of translating Chinese to English in people’s heads. It takes some getting used to, but I think we’ve all accepted it – to make life easier, for Chinese people speaking English. And culturally — Chinglish… it has a function. Um, in the way that it’s a dialect and it reflects socioeconomic backgrounds, or just a place…just like slang does. Yeah, it’s a form of slang.

Saving face 

Hollie: OK. Let’s talk about face. Saving face. Can you define saving face as you’ve seen it in your place of work, in an Asian culture?

Chris: Do we have to?

Hollie: Yes. So, saving face is upholding one’s social value – maintaining the respect of peers and colleagues because of positive behaviour, or overall good conduct. On a daily. Especially in a professional setting – or an important social setting. This is a delicate matter in Asian cultures. You can explain losing face.

Chris: If someone loses face, they become publicly embarrassed — humiliated. People are so worried about this – if it happens to them, it’s a really big deal. They feel they have to work extremely hard to make up for their mistakes. Making sure things look good on the outside, yet not necessarily being good in reality. Like – if someone did something bad at work, they really messed up – and then they were called out on it, publicly. Losing face.

Hollie: …

Chris:  So then, saving face can make people miserable. They are constantly doing things just to please someone else who isn’t, in turn, actually pleased – they’re just…general expectations, really. Of the working hierarchy. But…I mean, like to put on a good front too. Everyone does. At work. Overachieving becomes the norm in the name of saving face. And we do it.

Hollie: Everyone does, to a degree.

Chris: Yeah. It’s illogical. And I’m a man of logic.

Hollie: Okay.

Hollie: Why else are people so worried at work though?

Chris: Job security. Pleasing their boss.

Hollie: Definitely. I just think it’s something where – it’s not nice to humiliate people either. Hong Kongers don’t joke about that.  It’s about dignity and respect, especially in the workplace.

Chris: It is.

Hollie: But, there’s a lot of competition to make up for that. It can get nasty.

Chris: It can.

Hollie: Okay, what do you think the Canadian equivalent of face is? Or, at least a rough comparison? In other words, what is equally as important as saving face for Canadians?

Chris: Being accused of being a thief or a pervert. But wouldn’t people be just as worried about that here? I don’t know where we’re going with this.

Hollie: Let’s move on.

Chris: BREAK.

Beliefs and practices

Hollie: From your humble observations, what role does religion play for Hong Kongers?

Chris: I think it plays a bigger role for the older generations, just as it does in Canadian culture. I find it’s losing its significance, dying off. But, it’s more present in Hong Kong than it is at home, generally.

Hollie: In what way is it more present?

Chris: It’s more present in our profession, at least. I can see it. People our age seem to have religious beliefs and practices, but I think religion began to lose its grasp in Canada earlier than it did here. It’s more prevalent here – still. Christianity, I mean.

Hollie: And more extreme. There are a lot of religious groups and protestors, and Christian schools and organizations. Catholicism, especially.  But, why do you think organized religion is still hanging on here?

Chris: Because we’re more free thinking – free minded. In Canada. We’re taught by our parents to be open-minded about things. (Laughs). I don’t know. Things weren’t as forced upon us in our generation – in general, I mean. Or in schools…as much as they are here. But I think they are a generation behind, so to speak. With the social movements and things.

Hollie: What religion are you talking about for the older Chinese generations? Because it’s not Christianity, mostly.

Chris: No – it’s Confucianism and Buddhism. A lot of Hong Kongers are atheists though. Most are.

Hollie: Yeah, but what do the Chinese worship, mostly?

Chris: Nature! Haha.

Hollie: No! They worship their ancestors. They honour their ancestors.

Chris: Yes, they do. Which makes a lot more sense. They’re the people who helped you get where you are, aren’t they?!

Hollie: You wanna go on record saying that?

Chris: No. What if (your ancestors) were bad people?

Hollie: True. How does this differ from the general functionality of religion in our Eastern provinces?

Chris: BORING. That’s a boring question. Break!

Working hierarchies  

Hollie: Do you feel affected by the dominance of working hierarchies as a NET?

Chris: Of course. Because you feel the outside pressure from the other teachers and the other staff to emulate what they’re doing – to be accepted.

Hollie: Do you feel you are part of a totem pole?

Chris: Yeah. I feel like I’m looked up to. I don’t feel I’m at the bottom of the totem pole, and I’m not at the top. But I feel like….I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. It depends on a particular staff member’s view of NET teachers in their school and in Hong Kong. Some people feel that NETs are overpaid and underworked. There can be a lot of jealousy.

Hollie: Yes. And, I feel like I’m outside the totem pole, sort of. Not always though. It depends on the situation – or the duty. And there is some jealousy, but it’s like we’re told – or warned about it. We don’t always experience it first hand. That would be disrespectful. Inappropriate. But then – people don’t mind asking you what your salary is – or, if you get a bonus. And you know they resent it.

Chris: But those who accept the fact that we are there for a specific purpose – those people seem to look up to us, and see the good in what we’re doing, just by being there. If we’re doing a good job.

Hollie: How has this impacted you at work?

Chris: How has the hierarchy impacted me?

Hollie: Yeah. Like, in a negative way or a positive way…

Chris: (Thinking really hard – maybe too hard). I feel like… my opinion is valued at my school, so I think it has affected me in a positive way. Yeah.

Hollie: I agree. You’re in a good situation. So, if you could choose, where would you rest on the totem pole? Think big.

Chris: Somewhere hidden in the middle.

Hollie: That’s mediocre.

Chris: Well, no – because if you’re at the top, you’re expected to always be saving face, and I don’t agree with that. And that would never fly…around here. I wouldn’t be good at the top – around here.

Hollie: OK. So you like where you’re at right now.

Chris: Yup.

Family values and work ethic

Hollie: Me too. OK family values. What could Hong Kong families take from the books of Canadian families?

Chris: The value of spending time with your children.

Hollie: Why do you say that?

Chris: Because a lot of Hong Kongers don’t spend time enough with their children. Or any time. They’re working late hours. Their nannies (domestic helpers) are the ones holding (the child’s) hand walking through the mall on a Sunday.

Hollie: Yeah.

Chris: And, Canadians could emphasize the importance of socializing, and being involved in activities. Um, because I think being well-rounded is more important to Canadians than it is for Hong Kongers. Working hard and excelling in academics is so important – here.

With families, in Canada, kids (in good homes) are treated differently, concerning discipline. How some parents can treat their kids here. It’s extreme. They pressure them. They yell, are physical with them…using fear as a tactic.

Hollie: True, and we’ve seen this – but what about Hong Kong kids who are spoiled monsters?

Chris: Yeah. Oh yeah – kids are babied here. I don’t think all Hong Kong kids are spoiled, at all. Of course I don’t. But many of them – they have little to no responsibilities at home. They’re in strollers when they’re six. They don’t have to do anything to pitch in. They don’t have a lawn to mow or a bed to make – they don’t have any chores. They grow up being spoon-fed everything. They don’t work for what they get. Well, besides at school. They expect to be handed things. This is a cultural thing – a societal thing. Kids live in an apartment building, and there are no daycares, and they’re raised by a nanny – local kids are, a lot of the time. And their parents work really late. You know, they have no choice. It’s the way it is, right?

And yeah, the focus in on academics and their extra curricular stuff. Whatever their parents are paying for them to do. Piano, violin, art – sports…and then tutorial classes. This is the focus, and the parents are so strict about it. Or, they coddle their kids, making sure they are babied… so they can excel. And be confident. But then it’s like – it can just spoil them to death.

Hollie: Helicopter parents.

Chris: Yes.

Hollie: So what is lost on Hong Kongers, because of that?

Chris: Being multi. Having a broader outlook on things. Being well-rounded.

Hollie: What could Hong Kong people teach their Canadian counterparts (assuming all sides are equal in good).

Chris: Work ethic. I don’t know, maybe that’s not true.

Hollie: I think it is…a type of work ethic, maybe.

Chris: But when I think of …Canadians have good work ethic.

Hollie: Yes…but I know what you mean.

Chris: I don’t know if I even like saying that.

Hollie: Well, what do you like about the way Hong Kong people work? How is it admirable?

Chris: They’re disciplined. They’re disciplined in a way that is ….I don’t know. What do you think?

Hollie: I think it creates a respectable environment. And an orderly one. There’s less emphasis on “what about me” or “what’s in it for me” at work – during a regular day. Like, my coworkers drop whatever they’re doing to help me a lot of the time, and expect nothing in return. They work really hard. And it makes me want to work hard too, and I reap the benefits of it at the end of the day. Sometimes. I don’t always feel this way about it – because I think there is a lack of efficiency there too. More work is created when there doesn’t have to be. You  know, for the sake of the process, or the rules, and that bugs me. What do you think?

Chris: Yeah, I agree. Doing things to look good, or to make it seem as though you are working hard. Or to make it appear that you’re extremely organized or on task – or spending a lot of time on one thing, so it’s ‘hard work’.

Etiquette and taboos 

Hollie: Yes. Let’s move on? Manners.

Chris: What manners?

Hollie: Exactly. Who is more polite – Hong Kongers or Canadians?

Chris: God. Canadians.

Hollie: How?

Chris: Canadians seek ways to be polite. Hong Kongers are only polite when they have to be. Generally. There’s a lot of rudeness here. We look for opportunities to be friendly with people – in Canada. To say hello, to wave – to nod. We open doors for people. Um…and burping, farting and snorting is frowned upon in Canada in social settings. And shoving and butting in line. And not moving out of the way.

Hollie: Or noticing that someone might be trying to get by. And here?

Chris: All of it. More…widely accepted.

Hollie: Name something that is considered polite in Hong Kong, yet irrelevant or not necessary on the East Coast.

Chris: Doing this: (puts hand in front of mouth and pretends to pick at teeth). Really concerned about blocking their mouths when using a toothpick.

Hollie: I know, but I’m glad they do it.

Chris: People aren’t as nosy here – not as much as they are at home. There’s more of a need to know what’s going on with people personally. People don’t even really look at you in public here. It’s like you don’t exist, even if you’re screaming.

Hollie: Do you think that’s an urban thing, or a cultural thing?

Chris: I think it’s a cultural thing. An urban cultural thing.

Hollie: …

Hollie: I think people don’t want to get involved. Their scared of crazies. And of losing face. I am too. I get it now. Just look away. Although I love the drama. I love catching a good scene!

Chris: I know.

Hollie: Okay, name something that is considered taboo in western culture, but completely fine in Hong Kong.

Chris: Talking about salary and money. We don’t ask someone how much money they make or how much things cost. Obviously. That’s a no. But it’s the first thing people ask here.

Hollie: The very first thing – no qualms.

Chris: “Oh, I”m going to Bali this weekend.”

“Oh, so expensive! How much!?”

or

“I’m going to this restaurant tonight – for dinner.”

And they say “Oh, what is the price? It’s too expensive!”

Or it’s just “How much money do you make?”

Hollie: Yeah. I’m used to it now. Today my coworker asked me how much our plane tickets home were and I told her. I don’t care anymore. So, what is it like not to have a car – not to be driving around in a car that you operate? That’s a big change.

Chris: Public transportation is great here. Everyone uses it. You don’t hear ‘the peasant wagon’ or ‘the loser cruiser’, although a lot of people drive their own cars in Hong Kong, of course. They use all forms of transport. Their system is revered. It’s super clean, fast and efficient. You can get a bus, minibus, the train, a taxi or an old trolly. You can drive your car. And what do you need a car for when you can have McDonald’s delivered to your apartment 24/7?

Hollie: Oh god stop talking about McDonald’s. (He mentioned McDonald’s about 8 times and I had to edit it out. I don’t even know why. He’s obsessed with McDonald’s delivery – just the fact that it’s available, all the time.) What is like to live in a place with so many people?

Chris: Uh, it’s overwhelming at times. It’s hot. Sweaty. Smelly. Um…uncomfortable.

Hollie: All the time?

Chris: After extended periods of time. When you’ve had too much of it. Overdoses of it.

Hollie: What do you miss about Canada’s spaces, then?

Chris: That in itself. The openness. Not being pushed, not being breathed on. Not having someone’s breath in your face. Not listening to 18 phone conversations and 91 video games being played at the same time.

Hollie: Anything else you miss about Canadian space?

Chris: The smell of fresh air. And it’s true – but we can’t say anything about ocean smell. We have that here. We are surrounded by ocean, so we are lucky to have that. But it’s masked by the stench of pollution coming from China. I miss having four different distinct seasons. I miss the four distinct seasons because it’s like, changing’ it up. It offers variety in activities we do, things we wear.

Hollie: OK good. Tea break. Game of Thrones break. Thank you byeeee!

- End Part I -

Stay tuned!

The stacks and piles of our little lives

Buildings and bridges
are made to bend in the wind
to withstand the world,
that’s what it takes
All that steel and stone
are no match for the air, my friend
What doesn’t bend, breaks.
~Ani Difranco

Hong Kong is an urban organism, and as the world spins, it germinates like the mini beast it is – one I’ve fallen for (we fight sometimes, but it’s love). Revered for being rigid and raucous all at once, it’s a land of freedoms (granted by the motherland). Protesters abound, but are their points taken? While you’re contemplating that, know this: scant space is what’s up for debate.

Reclamation, affordable housing and environmental protection are sore spots in the public forum, and a quick glance out the window tells me why. Hong Kong’s skyscrapers take root on tiny plots, yet they extend to impossible limits. Relentless growth reflects a thriving society, but at what cost? Citizens roll with expansion, but often bitterly, and never without skepticism. There are laws put in place to protect the land and take care of of the people, but really, how doth a dynamic metropolis succeed? Sacrificially. Natural space is disappearing fast, and it’s usually not for the benefit of the average citizen.

HK is home to the most and the tallest sky scrapers in the world, and it’s no wonder. There are almost 8 million peeps living here, and with zero space, where the hell do you expect us to go? Someone obviously realized our lives are like Tupperware – totally stackable. HK’s high rises are towering waifs that coexist within a breath of each other, always squeezing room for more. When I weave my way through the districts, either in a taxi or on the train, these concrete giants seem uncountable, and they never cease to awe me. One complex (a cluster of say, 8 buildings) houses thousands of people. There are hundreds of complexes, and that’s not counting stand-alones, old neighborhoods or public housing. Our complex is home to more people than the entire population of Cape Breton Island.

We live in a 63-storey building. Its rectangular body climbs up and up, piercing through the air, and when I stand at the bottom contemplating its existence, I’m reminded of mine: I’m an ant.

Before we signed the lease to our 600-square foot two bedroom (or, one real bedroom plus another space for stuff we’d normally store in a closet), we looked at a spacious flat on the 50-something-th floor. Well, we kind of did.

Hollie: (Peering through the adjacent bay window at eye-level mountain peaks) “No.”

Chris: “What do you mean no.”

Hollie: ” Let’s go.”

Chris: (Ignoring Hollie /thinly veiling frustration) “So, how much again?”

Landlord: “It’s –”

Hollie: (Whispering furiously / thinly veiling rudeness, also sweating) “No.”

How would I ever sleep soundly knowing we are at the top of a totem pole? I couldn’t consider an emergency. What if? Nope. Not prepared to think about that.

So, the 29th floor it was. In the world of 63 storeys, it’s child’s play. At first our lofty flat was intimidating and a bit suffocating. I felt dizzy and boxed in. The living room is the dining room is the entryway is the hallway? I was used to a house, yard, a long, winding road, several forests…and an ocean, but uh, I had to forget about all of that, so I grew accustomed to what was once alien (Chris did too).

Now we like our little nest in the sky. It’s quiet and private (as long as we keep the drapes shut and our voices at medium scream). It’s small, but not cramped, and when it does feel tight, Chris lords the couch and I occupy le boudoir. We visit each other in between chapters / during commercials. Sometimes we remember a natural world exists, and we visit that.

Another cool thing about our mini box is – it’s ours. I mean it’s not really (we rent), but everything in our apartment belongs to us. Not all items have been previously owned (although I love a fine hand-me-down). Point is, we’re not owing, borrowing or caretaking. The stuff has our surname stamped on its bum. OWNED.

Our tower. It’s shy, but still let me use a photo of its midsection.

If there is one thing I detest about high-rise cubby living, it’s the kitchen. I mean the four blocks of tile that play home to an elfin sink, hobbit countertop and munchkin fridge. We also have a smurf-sized washing machine that is particularly rage-inducing. How do we deal? We take turns in there. If husband cooks, wife cleans. If a sou chef is required, they’re to find an alternative work space. The kitchen table is ideal, but people have been spotted chopping veg on the couch.

Wedged between conveniences and challenges are the curious things. Living in a jammed city of towers means I can spy on people. I mean, observe. Don’t call the cops.

I’ve always been an exceptional spy, and can finally put my sneak skills to good use! I jerk my curtain aside and instantly know if someone has made their bed, or are still sleeping in it. They’re right across the way – all we need are two cans and a string. I don’t stare at sleeping people, I promise, but I can count how many families are watching the same channel while I tally up the of households who have arranged their space in the exact same way (everyone).

I once discovered two domestic helpers using a secret language (a mix of signing, and what sounded like bird calls). One girl was several floors above us, the other across from us in the next building, looking up at her friend. I witnessed a couple argue over how to put up blinds, then make up and hug it out, and I watched a teenager screaming so violently into a phone at (her boyfriend ?) for committing what must have been a heinous crime. Her hysterics escalated to the point where she had to be carried off by a beat cop. Everyone was watching from their balconies.

We enjoyed a bird’s eye view of fender-bender theatrics in the parking lot, and everyone watched that too. Many an evening, I hear the same little girl protesting her bedtime (which is much later than mine). If I get home before 8pm, I can hear my neighbor playing the piano. This person has been practicing the same song for two years, and I can report that they have improved significantly.

When I look outside my window, or think about my neighbors above, beside and below me, I marvel at how our little lives are stacked and piled onto one another. Somehow we still love and fight and eat and sleep and laugh and cry, all together, yet quite separately. And we do it well, don’t we? We are only faintly acquainted with one another, or not at all, but that isn’t to say I don’t feel a kinship with everyone. How could I not? We’re all part of that living and breathing organism we call HK, and whether we like it or not, it’s a close-knit situation. Even if it’s all up in the air, at least we’re in it together.

The Summer of the Stranger Tableau

Photo by Kiersten Johnston

Daily Prompt: Have you ever had a random encounter or fleeting moment with a stranger that stuck with you?

Stranger danger was always on my parents’ list of don’t evens, and this was one rule my sisters and me obeyed. Mostly.

Mom instilled an operative fear in us that served to protect. “Don’t wander off – someone will grab you!” I still fear that someone, but now I’m  scared they’ll just grab part of me, not the whole me.

Ah, The Stranger.  Frightening, yet alluring, isn’t he? It’s always a tall, dark man. By tall I mean any height exceeding 5″3 (we’re a short family), and by dark I mean entrenched in the shadow of mystery. This is how we identified him. Yes, it’s always a he. Sue me later.

The following is a particularly creative piece of non-fiction – a piece I’ll use to spook my children with. I will be that kind of mother. Enjoy!

It was summer; late 80s, and we were camping at Seal Island. I was seven and Jen was going on five. We were frolicking and bickering in the old wooded area that stood between our campsite and the man-made fishing pools. The site recently underwent a handover, and so part of it was being excavated. Seal Island Campground is carved into Kelly’s Mountain, causing the reddish earth to spill out from the cliffs and creep into the site. That summer, grass and bushes and trees had been replaced by grated land and newly-formed paths, so all I remember is dirt. And there were warning signs all over – keep away from this, stay out of here. You know what that means:adventures in trespassing!

On a whim, we decided to seek out raspberry bushes – an excuse to explore a fresh path we had recently discovered. So off we went. It was so close to our campsite we didn’t feel the need to tell our family where we were going. Mom and Dad were making dinner and having drinks with Aunt Ruby and Uncle Dave. We’d only be gone for a bit – they’d barely notice we were gone!

As Jen and me slowly crept our way through the path, we heard an unlikely sound. Bagpipes. It was getting louder, and we soon realized why. A man was walking toward us, playing them! He was fully garbed in a Scottish kilt. Was this real? It didn’t seem it could be. I didn’t know what to do or how to feel. Mom’s fear tactics sprung in me like a jumpy rabbit, mirroring the look on Jennifer’s face. Uh oh. The Stranger: Cape Breton kilt chronicles! Before we could think of a plan, he halted in front of us, easing his pipes.

Our conversation with the bagpiper has long since faded, but I remember it was lead by him, save a few shy questions from us. He didn’t stay long, and before we could believe our eyes, he was on his way, walking toward our campsite, blowing air into his instrument again. Awestruck and amused, we kept on toward the fishing pools. Was he a time traveler? I wondered what he thought of cars and ghetto blasters.

When we got back, we told our story, breathless and excited by our own words. Where did he come from? Why was he there? Turns out, nobody knew.

“For God’s sake, stop your exaggerating!” harked my mother.

But we weren’t.

Later that night, we whispered in our sleeping bags about a  sneaking suspicion: our adult counterparts didn’t believe a word we were saying. I’m not sure what conclusions I drew about our stranger, but in the dog days of summer, we searched and searched for him and the raspberry path. We never found either again.

Years later I had an epiphany – it must have been a ghost. If it was, he was a friendly ghost, and I think he might have been looking out for us.

 

The songbird keeps singing…

Birdsong by Randi Antonse

Post a Day writing prompt: What song is stuck in your head / on replay, and how does it speak to you?

Like billions have claimed, I love music. I’ve always been hesitant to write about it because I don’t play, sing or work in the business. I’ve built a respectable playlist, but you’re not going to find a vintage Cream record in my living room. I don’t have my head in it every day, but music is important to me. So I’ll write about it, just this once.

My playlist starts with Alicia Keys and ends with The Rolling Stones. In between you’ll find an unbalanced mix, including every Pearl Jam album (except Binaural, and only because I temporarily forgot about it). Poor Binaural – when will it ever catch a break? In short, I’ve never conformed to one genre or completely dismissed another. I don’t care enough, and deep down, I really do love it all (selectively). And so, music is my irregular life companion. It’s jealous of silence and the big screen, but we manage to operate a civil polygamy.

When I crank it, I love anything old, worn and glorified. If I could time travel, it’d be back to Laurel Canyon to meet Joni Mitchell and David Crosby. I fell in love with Fleetwood Mac at the age of fourteen, and we’re still together. I love indie too. Like many of you, it got me through my twenties, and has survived my transition to tame. Right now I’ve got this on replay. Damn, I love anything melodic with indecipherable lyrics, or a band with 179 people in it.  But I haven’t forgotten my roots. I look forward to  a good fiddle set this summer, and listening to the standard East Coast lineup on a road trip. All the same, I will die with pop in my heart. I still regret throwing out my J-lo poster, and I never miss an episode of Idol, no matter who sits on the judge’s panel.

My favourite songs and albums have never been genre specific, nor era. It’s just music that has struck the right chords at the right time in my life. I’m the same with movies. I watch them over and over, especially when I’m in need of an old pal. Why do you think I love Cameron Crowe so much? Music is his major, and I’ve learned so much about it through him. Almost Famous is my favourite movie of all time. The only challenge it’s up against is every other Cameron Crowe film.

Burned in my memory. From left to right: John McVie (bass), Lindsay Buckingham (guitar hero), Stevie Nicks (goddess), Mick Fleetwood (spaz drummer, glue & no drama), and Christine McVie (mysterious maven)

In the midst of sidetracking and soundtracks, I must keep my focus – the song. It’s ’Songbird’, written and performed by the majestic Christine McVie. It’s been with me since I first discovered Rumours in 1996, and over the years, its meaning and purpose have evolved. When I first heard the song, I was too young to completely unravel its layers. I wasn’t even sure if I liked it or not. Christine’s voice has got an Anne Murray quality that I had to work through before I could grow to love her. Ah, Christine. I can still see her black and white photos inside the album cover. There’s one where she is sitting on the ground, legs stretched and ankles crossed, wearing faded jeans and leaning against Stevie. She looked so young. When I finally realized she was responsible for ‘Songbird’, I wondered about her, and who the song was about (John?). It seemed like the sort of lyric a more wizened woman would sing. You know, someone who’s been through it all. It hinted at something I was beginning to discover – age did not necessarily equal wisdom. Before I had decided on the song, I knew one thing was certain: Christine knew what was up – on the piano, and in life.

Songbird is a sombre testament of love. For me, it’s always been about arriving at a new threshold – whether it’s a proper goodbye (how I understood it as a teenager) or the arrival of a new life, or at least a new era (how I’m hearing it now). Songbird is about selfless, unconditional love that will remain constant and joyful, no matter what has transpired or what is to come. It excludes complications, jealousy and anxiety. It uplifts everything that is pure about loving someone, and that’s what it has always meant for me.

I’ve been known to hug my computer while listening to this after a bottle of wine or two, and their ain’t no shame in that.

If I die tomorrow, play the damn song at my funeral. I’m not joking.

Ma and the Young Bucks

Marco, Miriam, Chris and Moose!

I have a new favorite band. They played in my livingroom tonight, and they’re called Ma and the Young Bucks.

They kidnapped me and made me listen to their entire set. I even made Ma a peanut-butter and banana sandwich (she accidentally skipped dinner).

They’re new, comprised of three boys and a girl: Chris, Shamus, Marco and Miriam (Ma). They sing, strum, shake the tambourine and stomp their feet. But if you want to see them live, you’ll have to go to The Wanch tomorrow night around 8:00.

They’re out there having a whiskey, so I managed to sneak away for a moment to say this: you just never know where life will take you – or who it’ll take you to. It doesn’t matter where you’re from or where you’re going. What matters is now, and what brings us together. More often than not, it’s the mutual love of something, like music.

Meeting friends in Hong Kong is often circumstantial, so it’s extra special when people become friends because of something they enjoy doing. I love watching and listening to these four as they belt out tunes in our cramped space; sheets of music, empty glasses and tuners and picks and old, curled up strings.

Marco sits back, strumming quietly, but his playing amps the entire sound. He’s very skilled, and just as sweet and modest. Shamus too – a natural talent plus many hours spent playing, and an untapped voice that adds a special rustic something. Every time he sings a new harmony, it sounds better than the last. Let’s put it this way – if there is a guitar in the room, Shamus is playing it.

Chris and Miriam do lead vocals, harmonizing and partnering up. A total pro, Miriam wails, or serenades like a songbird (depending on her intention). She’s got a commanding presence that makes you just want to close your eyes and listen. Or, sing along in the shower (thank God for the noisy fan). And, which language would you like to hear – English, or Cantonese? Just ask Miriam. She’s choir-girl meets-indie-folk-rock. Sweet soul perfection!

Anyone who knows Chris will agree that he can nail a set and get everyone on their feet (even the ones who swore they weren’t dancing that night)…He’s got that boyish charm and a strong, beautiful voice (that, of course, I love). I’m kinda proud of him. He loves playing and performing, and he’s proof that if you want something to happen, you create it yourself. Those are actions to live by.

Anyway, I think these four are goin’ places. Wanna come?

Spread the love and the peanut butter!

PS: I blame the lateness and the shortness of this post on said musical whirlwind.

Maybe you’ll hear a version of this tomorrow night :

Me? I choose to think not.

Paddling through the tranquil waters and exploring the mystical karsts of Halong Bay, Vietnam. I was terrified a rogue bat would poop on me, or worse, attack me for invading its cave, but I managed to keep my anxiety in check…mostly.

It’s Saturday, and I’m at home, sick. Chris was generous enough to share his chest cold with me, but kind enough to do the dishes, make dinner and get groceries. So, I’ll forgive him. After all, I get to watch an entire season of Downton Abbey!

My brain took an early lunch on Friday and I haven’t seen a trace of him since! He left with my humour, ambition and general hygiene, but I’m about to reclaim that with a shower. Before I do, I’ll paste this Facebook 2007-esque nonesense and you can do what you will with it.

Happy weekend, friends, followers and famille! I love you all.

What’s your favorite candle scent?

Vanilla, and at Christmas, Mulberry.

What female celebrity do you wish was your sister?

Natalie Portman. I admire her so much. Not only as an actress, but as an independent and intelligent woman. She’s a great role model. I’d take her advice any day on any topic.

What male celebrity do you wish was your brother?

Daniel Radcliffe, because he’s dorky, fun and hilarious. I love his Britishness and, he played Harry Potter for God’s sake!

How old do you think you’ll be when you get married?

August 2010 – A great day!

I married at 27, 9 days before my 28^th birthday. We were four and a half years into our relationship, and in many ways, ready to be married. Hey, you can’t possibly be prepared for the big ol’ journey in every way, but that’s the great thing about it, right?

Do you know a hoarder?

Not a true hoarder, but I know a few people who have a hard time throwing things away. I can’t bring myself to watch that hoarding show. It triggers my anxiety and makes me feel so frustrated. I’m not judging, but hoarding seems like  a hard sickness to break free from. It’s like, you can’t talk to a hoarder! If approached, they’ll dig a moat of incredulous rage, and that’s it.

Can you do a split?

Yes! Although I’m not as limber as I used to be. Not bad for 30, though. I practice while I stretch for kick-boxing.

How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike?

I don’t’ know. I think maybe 5. My first bike was a fixer-upper that Dad suped-up and painted sky blue. He bought a new seat for it, and taught me how balance and pedal, even though I was really scared. I remember the first time riding it without training wheels. Dad let me go and I just kept pedaling down Fatima Drive (our old street), with a huge grin on my face! I felt so independent.  Great moment in history, wasn’t it, Dad?

How many oceans have you swam in?

Atlantic my entire life. I miss it more than many things, although the ocean scares the hell out of me. It’s so powerful and unyielding. It’ll take you without a second’s thought. Anyway, let’s not get morbid – it’s the weekend. The South China Sea and the Indian Ocean, which makes three. We did swim in a glacial lake in Vancouver. Does that count for something? It was so turquoise and cold.

How many countries have you been to?

Not many, yet. Canada, the USA, Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam and Hong Kong / Macau, both of which are special administrative regions of China.

Is anyone in your family in the army?

Yes, my cousin Glenn whom I never get to see, but I do admire him and always have.

What would you name your daughter if you had one?

Lately I’ve been thinking – I love the name Elizabeth. It’s traditional and regal,  and puts me in mind of strength and grace. I think the middle name will be after my grandmother, Pearl. I asked Chris what he thought of Elizabeth, and he didn’t say no, but didn’t seem overjoyed. Although that could be because he’s a boy, or because I randomly asked him 15 minutes after he had fallen asleep. We’ll see.

What would you name your son if you had one?

Christopher, after his father, but I don’t know if Chris would want that. I think he wants a modern and untraditional name, but I don’t know how I feel about those.

What’s the worst grade you got on a test?

Oh god – something in the 20s I think. How sad! I was a wayward teen in my junior years.

What was your favorite TV show when you were a child?

The Cosby Show for its humour and family dynamic, and Road to Avonlea because it’s a period drama and family saga, and everyone knows I love those! Right, C. Babineau? He likes to tease me, but it’s not fair. My sisters loved R2A too, and no one makes fun of them.

What did you dress up as on Halloween when you were eight?

Mom, what was it? I will say Minnie Mouse, along with my sister, Jen. My costume was pink and hers was blue. They were handmade by Nelly, a fun and sweet lady we knew from our summer campsite. The headpieces were huge, hot and uncomfortable. They were made of this thick, black fur and had a velcro strap. I felt like a moron, but we got so many compliments on them. “They are so sweet!” “Oh my God, so cute!” Mom was like, 7 months pregnant with Jillian, so there was no point in arguing with her. Ugh. Mo-om! Why?!

Have you read any of the Harry Potter, Hunger Games or Twilight series?

All. Harry Potter is in a league of champions, and my YA fictional soulmate. Its title should not be in conjunction with Twilight – a poorly written series with an interesting plot. But, unlike some, I do love Kristen Stewart and I think she did Bella justice on-screen. The Hunger Games is a good YA triology, and I loved the movie. Jennifer Lawrence is the perfect Katniss, and I can’t wait to see where she takes her career. She’s an old soul. Not as old as Natalie Portman’s soul, but old enough to be acknowledged. She mostly knows what’s up. What are we talking about here?

Would you rather have an American accent or a British accent?

It’s called an English accent, and since there are so many versions of both the English and the American, I request this question be narrowed down. I’d like to have the Dowager Countess’s accent for a day, or maybe a 19^th Century Southern belle’s.

Did your mother go to college?

No. She had me young and went straight to work.

Are your grandparents still married?

Yes, each couple for more than 50 years. May both of my grandfathers rest in peace.

Have you ever taken karate lessons? No, but my father had a brown belt in Taekwondo (is that relevant?), and like I said, I’m taking Muay Thai, which is whipping my ass into shape and allowing me to make new Hong Kong friends!

Do you know who Kermit the Frog is?

Kermit the Frog is a true gentleman and one of the greatest late-night hosts who ever lived.

What’s the first amusement park you’ve been to?

It was either Canada’s Wonderland or Darian Lake in New York. Dad and I went on the wooden roller coaster in Darian Lake, and I will never forget it. I screamed and he laughed. The entire time.

What language, besides your native language, would you like to be fluent in?

Le Francais Canadien!

Do you spell the color as grey or gray?

Grey, but I do like A’s better than E’s. They’re prettier.

My handsome Father and his main girl, my beautiful Mom. Dad, you may be bald, but think of all you’ve gained from the loss of your hair! I know you blame it on us, so we’ll ignore genetics, like you do. In the end, I think we were worth it!

Yes! And he has a moustache. My father-in-law calls him “The Banker” (you know, from Monopoly).

Do you know triplets?

No. But unless I’m mistaken, my Aunt Carole is an aunt to triplets on her side of the family. Can someone confirm this? Am I making this up? Was it twins? You know how, when you’re young, everything seems bigger and crazier? My childhood brain could be exaggerating.

Do you prefer Titanic or The Notebook?

The Notebook. I’ll admit: although I respect her, I didn’t enjoy Kate Winslet in Titanic. Actually, I don’t particularly take to Kate. Why? I don’t know. She’s got it all, but I’m not huge on her. Besides, I thought she and Leo were an awkward match. And I know a lot of my peers will be disgusted with this, but…I thought he was an odd choice for the hero. It just wasn’t believable. Haters gonna hate!

As for The Notebook – I’m not ashamed to say, it pulls me in every time. Rachel and Ryan are the perfect on-screen match. Totally believable. Do you think it was because they were actually in love and together while filming? Probably. But even if they weren’t – they just have chemistry. That magical something, and that’s what it’s all about.

Matthew Joseph, forgive me.

Have you ever had Indian food?

Yes, and I love it. Naan bread is delish, and great for dipping. Who wouldn’t die in the name of a good curry? I’m going to admit this to the world, though: I’ve never tried butter chicken.

What’s the name of your favorite restaurant?

In Hong Kong, I think it’s Enoteca in Quarry Bay, which is part of the Bacar Group. It’s Asian-Mediterranean fusion, tapas style, and it’s got great ambience. I love their plush red chairs! What I mostly love is their cheesy mushroom risotto balls. Oh. My. God.

Have you ever been to Olive Garden?

Yes, I’ve been to one in Maine with my parents and little sister, Jillian Jiggs. Meh – just another chain restaurant. I remember the limitless bread, though, and there ain’t nuttin’ wrong with that!

Do you belong to any warehouse stores (Costco, BJ’s, etc.)?

No! We need a Costco card. We’re running low on our jumbo jar of Cheez Whiz, and they sell cute, good-quality onesies. There are a few babies in my life who would like to expand their collection, and I’m willing to take orders.

What would your parents have named you if you were the opposite gender?

I’m not sure what would have been chosen for me, but Mom and Dad thought Jillian was a boy, and would have most definitely named her Shaun Patrick. Patrick after my father and grandfather. It was talked about so much that I feel as though Shaun Patrick is a fictional character in my mind.

If you have a nickname, what is it?

Holl – everyone calls me this.

Smalls – teenage nickname coined by the Peters family. It spread like wildfire and stuck like glue. Smalls is a derivative of ‘Smallie Hollie’, which was designed to point out my miniature frame (among other things). Thanks Kim, Craig and Kelsey.

Hollz, Hollister – my Cheticamp nickname. Gee I miss my Acadian friends!

Munchkin – bestowed on me by my brother-in-law, Brad, who is the sole user of this endearing and accurate nick.

Babe – Chris only uses ‘Hollie’ in public situations, but not…so many. I think it annoys (or at least amuses) my sisters, and probably many others, but that’s us. He uses my given name when he’s really mad at me. I know when I hear it, I’m in trouble.

My fave person!

Who’s your favorite person in the world?

Chris! He is my one true love, so technically, my favourite person.

Would you rather live in a rural area or in the suburbs?

A rural area, eventually, and preferably on Cape Breton Island, but it’ll have to wait. Daydream wise, I’d love to try Southern US  - like Georgia, or Alabama, and live in one of those rambling old homes. The rolling hills of Scotland, don’t mind if I do, and I can’t forget the English countryside. Those are big dreams, though. For real, we are thinking about Vancouver, or maybe Ottawa, and right now, I’m happy and excited about the hustle and bustle of Hong Kong.

Can you whistle?

Yeah, but it’s a sad little sound that rings of inconsistency and a lack of confidence. I admire a strong whistler. What do you think it says about someone’s personality? Don’t answer that, because my whistle sucks, and I can’t handle criticism while suffering from nasal congestion.

Do you sleep with a nightlight?

No, but I did growing up, and if I had it my way, I probably still would. I realize I have to be an adult and deal with the darkness.

Do you eat breakfast every morning?

Not really. During the weekday I usually have a banana and coffee, and on the weekends we eat so late, it’s brunch. Healthies gonna hate!

Where do you buy your jeans?

Levis, lately. Great quality and style for the right price. Hong Kong has a lot of options, but they’re either way too expensive or, they don’t exactly cater to western style and fit. Levis stores in Hong Kong don’t usually carry anything beyond a 27, so I just make the cut. Depressing, no? Like, how thin do you want us to be over here in Asia, huh? Ladies, where do you buy your jeans?

Do you usually remember your dreams in the morning?

Vividly, and I recall them again right before I go to sleep the following night. This has been happening to me for the past two years or so. Anyone else experiencing this strange pattern? Steve, I know you could tell us a thing or two about your crazy dreams.

What flavor tea do you enjoy?

Green tea is my favorite, but I do love Chamomile and Peppermint. My favorite holiday tea is Nutcracker Sweet by Celestial Teas, which was named by a 12 year old girl over twenty years ago. The story is written on the box. Obsessed!

What religion will you raise your children to practice?

Many and none. I will teach them to be good people in every way I know how, and I don’t mind borrowing from the good doctrines and practices of the world. I do admire Buddhist practices, and much of Christianity makes sense to me, because I was raised Protestant. But I will not tell them lies or pretend I’m certain about things I am not. I believe in God, and I am spiritual, but I don’t (and never truly have) conformed to anything, especially when it’s rigid. Not to say I don’t believe in a code of ethics – I do. But, I feel that a person needs to create their own. I hope my children are spiritual, but I just want them to be good, insightful and aware of the world around them.

How old were you when you found out that Santa wasn’t real?

I think I was 9. I had been doubtful for a time, but the blow was depressing. I told my best friend Megan about it, but she wasn’t ready for the truth. I got in a bit of trouble for that. I’ll never forget asking Mom if Santa was real. She said “Santa is real for those who believe in him. If you don’t, that’s your business, but why ruin it for everyone else?” It was the best way to confirm my suspicions, yet teach me that I don’t always have to share them with the world.

It’s a think piece.

Below is a message I received from my beloved friend, Ashleigh. She is a journalist and an avid runner. One of the things I love about Ashleigh is her compassion. She evokes meaning from the stories she covers, and articulates herself in a way that inspires people. She encourages me to be informed, and through knowing, push apathy out.

For anyone who is quick to criticize the media, remember that there are hard-working journalists out there who risk a lot to bring us news. These people toil to tell the truth, and ultimately, create positive change. Ashleigh is the perfect example of this, and that’s one of many reasons I admire her. Another is because she bakes delicious muffins while cranking house beats, but that’s beside the point (for now).

Sent April 16^th, 2013:

I can’t handle this Boston story…

It sickens me to think some of these people trained and hoped for months or years to qualify for the most prestigious marathon in the world only to have their legs blown off at the end. Can you imagine? Or to fly to Boston to support someone you love at the finish line only to have ball bearings lodged so deep in your skin that they need to be surgically removed?

If anything, this has inspired me to do a full marathon at some point in my life. For those runners and their supporters. Now get running! There is no better inspiration.

Love you xxoo

Ash got me thinking. I knew I wanted to send love out to Boston, but I wanted to say more, so I started digging. I took note of the nature of trending articles and the content people were posting, organic and otherwise, and I couldn’t help but think – we are fueling the fire of this tragedy in many ways. We are adding to what sickens us. This wasn’t an epiphany – it’s something I think about a lot.

I cruised TIME’s NewsFeed blog this morning and clicked on a compilation of photos of the Boston Marathon tragedy. Some of it strikes the right chords, providing uncensored facts and revealing the consequences of a horrific act. The collection celebrates the actions of selfless and brave people just by showing them. Included in TIME’s content is aftermath footage that will instill hope and humanity in people.This mosaic of articles reveals reality – stuff we need to see.

Among that, though, was an array of raw footage, extreme photos and provocative headlines. It felt exploitative. I didn’t have to ponder – I instinctively knew it was true. What I wondered was, how many people would disagree with me and defend the gore? I get it – we can’t censor, but what about establishing ethical lines? What about graphic images and dramatic language that, in the end, only serves the agenda of attention-seeking criminals? When it comes to dealing with tragic events on the Internet, is there a threshold we’ve crossed and forgotten about? Should we send out the search party, or bulldoze and rebuild?

Our collective response to tragedy has evolved intensely, and we know why. Assisted by its tools, modern society has gradually reformed what is decent, and what is acceptable for public forum. We’ve gone from sharing more to almost everything, and this contributes to the kind of damage that, in the end, sickens us. Tell me – what is sacred? Private? Harmful? I’m talking about the media we consume and the content we create online, specifically when something tragic happens.

I often ponder how we contribute to a crisis. We’re instantly online, consuming the story. Soon, we’re contributing: sharing and commenting on articles, and creating our own pieces. Whether it’s a Tweet or a blog post, or maybe a Facebook status, we add to the storyboard until it has expanded to include us. This seems to be the fundamental shift that has taken place. The neo ‘how we deal’. Hey – I’m part of it too. I am quite conscientious about what I post, but I’ve made blunders, and I’m sure I’ve had critics who disagreed with some of my content. Good – I think we all need that.

A lot of our online moving and shaking are things we do right. We’re spreading ideas that make a good rumble, and I love that. All of this helps us spring to action; we’re out there volunteering, donating, ranting, praying, protesting, rebuilding, and lobbying. Out of this we may create new problems or dig up unsolved issues, but we are connecting and weaving, trying to make sense of it all. Ultimately, to answer the question why? This is necessary!

But then there’s the exploiting and sensationalizing and just, people saying the wrong thing. And it’s out there – for everyone to see and interpret it how they will. What about that? This, to me, is a hurricane. And you know hurricanes – they cause a lot of collateral damage.

I won’t get into this, but I’ll mention it: a lot of us sit back and observe, or completely ignore. Whatever our reasons are for being apathetic, it’s got its impact too. I mean, we can’t care about everything, but we should care about something (relevant). Don’t you think?

So, when it comes to online content of tragic events, what do we need to do? What do we need to stop doing?