Canadutch » Memory Lane

Even Brando Liked Some Wang

Breigh — Sat, 05 Mar 2011 22:35:18 +0000

I saw a video today that I really liked. It’s part of the It Gets Better movement, which is a collection of messages from people all over the world, including celebrities, aimed at gay teenagers who suffer at the hands of bullies.

I love this video because it’s funny, it’s cool and it has a great message. I also love it because at the end she takes the time to make the point that it’s not just gay teens who get bullied, something I think a lot of people forget. Kids get bullied because they are too fat, too skinny, they wear glasses, their clothes are weird, their friends aren’t cool enough, or any number of reasons that seem completely absurd when you look back on them as adults.

I was picked on a lot as a child because I was bigger than the other kids. Some of the kids were merciless, others were just young and stupid and had no idea how hurtful the things they said really were.

I remember a boy in elementary school making jokes about my score on the Richter scale when I was doing gymnastics in gym glass. I didn’t even know what the Richter scale was, so when I found out, not only did he make me feel fat, he made me feel stupid too.

I remember being on a soccer team when I was in elementary school and the boys teasing me and calling me ‘Bubbles’ because I developed breasts before the rest of the girls, which they assumed was because I was fat. Maybe they were right… that didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

I remember when I was 14 and the first boy I ever really liked called me a whale after we ‘broke up’.

I remember a lot more instances when people said or did things to me because I was overweight, more than I care to list here.

I am 35 years old and I still remember them all like it was yesterday. What does that tell you?

Even though the majority of us make it through and move on, these moments stay with us for a lifetime. There are tiny scars that we carry with us as we get older, behaviors that form because of the hurt we felt as children when people tell us we aren’t normal or there is something wrong with us.

I love this video and love the It Gets Better message, because I think it’s something ALL teens need to hear.

30 Days of Truth: Day 24

Breigh — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 21:11:54 +0000

Ugh, I’ve been dreading this one. I’m really not a big music person… there are a lot of songs I can sing along with but ask me who sings them or what they are called? Forget it…

I’m not going to do a playlist for just one person, because I’ll never come up with the songs but I’ll just give the ones that come to the top of my head at this moment and who they are for, what they make me think of and the times they take me back to in my mind. Songs that will always be special to me for whatever reason.

That will have to do.

Whenever I hear the song The Best Day by Taylor Swift I think of my mother because the feelings in the song are a lot of what I have always felt about her, and still do of course.

I still sing along with The Joker by Steve Miller and think about the amazing times I had with my friends in college. Me and the girls sang this in the car many a night on the way out to the clubs.

The Friends Theme will always make me think of Tony D (middle) and the boys. Friends was at it’s most popular during my second year in college and one night at a party I shot this photo of a few of the boys imitating the ‘Friends Walk’.

The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel will always make me laugh remembering the time myself and some friends hung out with a busker outside the library in Halifax. We were all pretty drunk and I just remember standing on the little wall doing the big “PSSSH” when it came time for the cymbals bit. I think we sang a lot of songs with him that evening, but that’s the one that has stuck in my mind. We didn’t make a dime.

For as long as I live, the song Snowbird, and any other song by Anne Murray, will make me think of my grandmother. I’ll always love Anne Murray for that reason.

Growing up with a musician there are a lot of songs that remind you of them but Splish Splash by Bobby Darin and All I Have to Do is Dream by the Everly Brothers are my ‘Dad songs”, the ones he used to sing to me most and that are always the first to my mind when I think of him. I can still remember driving in downtown North Sydney while he sang “The Dream Song”, as I called it as a child, and taught me the words.

Any song by P!NK will always have a connection for me to my friend Penny, she loves her just as much as (maybe more than) I do, and we even went to see her in concert together.

Please forgive me, the next song is Celine Dion.

This is a song that I played over and over again while I was still in Toronto back in 1999. I sang, I cried, I wailed… and I missed Xander. This was my go-to song when I needed to let it all out as I was waiting to make the move over here. It wasn’t a long wait really, but it felt like forever.

I never, ever, want to miss him that badly again. My recent trip to Canada was the longest we’ve been apart in over 12 years, and that was only three weeks. What can I say, we’re clingy. I can think of worse things to be when you’ve been married this long!

30 Days of Truth: Day 22

Breigh — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 19:24:30 +0000

Other than wishing I’d never dated this douchebag or acted like such a shithead when I first moved here, I think the thing I wish I hadn’t done in my life is waste my opportunity for a decent education by quitting college. I went to college straight out of high school, which was a mistake, but a bigger mistake was quitting.

I really wanted to take a year off as I had a job at the time that I could have worked full time. I really had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, so I thought taking some time off to figure it out was the best way to go. I think my family was afraid that if I didn’t go then that I never would, and perhaps they were right… but I caved to the pressure and went anyway. I chose to take a Bachelor of Arts, mostly because it seemed closest to the things I was interested in and I knew I didn’t dig science or any of the other options. Oh, and that’s what my friends were taking so at least I could share classes with them.

I hated it. To be honest I always hated school.. I think I had a touch of ADHD or something as I always had a lot of trouble concentrating. I got sidetracked easily when I’d try to study, which would lead to a panic when test time came… and it didn’t improve any when I got to college. Rather than studying and thinking of what I wanted to do with my life, I drank and partied with my friends… a LOT. There wasn’t a single night of the week where we weren’t at a club or house party.

Me and my friends partying one Halloween during the college years. I’m in the middle in the frog costume.

I had a GREAT time during those years, but it had nothing to do with school, it was all about the parties. I loved my friends and I love all the good times we had together. I have a million stories about the crazy shit we got up to… but those stories don’t get you anywhere when you are looking for a job, or when you are sitting around with a group of new friends and they are talking about their education and careers.

While I was in college I was working part time. Between school, work and trying to keep up with my busy social life… something had to give and it was the thing I was the least interested in – school. Work gave me money and partying with my friends was fun. School was frustrating because I had difficulty forcing myself to study subjects I wasn’t actively interested in, so the subjects I was rather meh about (Economics, English…) suffered while I did really well in ones I actually enjoyed (Psychology, Anthropology etc). Unfortunately the ones I did enjoy didn’t make up for the others when it came down to my grades.

After two and a half years, I’d had enough and left college to go to work full time. I had student loans, nothing to show for it, and I still had no idea what I wanted to do. I didn’t have enough credits to graduate and I was tired of building up debt for something I didn’t believe in.

Hindsight is 20/20 of course. I wish more than anything that I had done whatever I could to make it through. I wish I really understood how important my education would be and how quitting would later affect me in regards to my self esteem and how I view myself on the social ladder.

I wish I could go back and do it all over. I’d get help with learning how to organize my studies and find a way to create balance between my school work and my social life, because now I feel uneducated, sometimes stupid. That’s not a nice feeling at all, especially knowing that I have nobody but myself to blame for it. My younger self, I guess.

I often have nightmares about school. I’ll dream that I am in college and I walk in and don’t know where to go, because it’s been so long since I’ve been to class that I don’t remember where the rooms are. So I’m walking through corridors lost.. or I go to class and have no idea what anyone is talking about. I dream that I go to class after missing weeks and weeks to find out there is a huge exam and I’m looking at this pile of books not knowing where to start.

Time and time again with the dreams about being back in college, lost and panicked. It’s sad and frustrating.

That is something I wish I hadn’t done. I can’t say I wish I hadn’t gone in the first place, just for the sake of saving myself the student loans, because I had far too much fun and I wouldn’t want to give up those memories… but I would have tried to at least get a diploma out of it as well.

Perhaps I’ll go back to school one day, but it’s a little more complicated trying to do it from here. It means becoming fluent enough in Dutch to go to school or studying remotely. It would also depend on if we could afford it. Maybe someday…

P.S. Another thing I wish I hadn’t done is this 30 Days of Fucking Truth, I’m so over it already. Ugh. I will finish it though… I mean, I didn’t finish college so I should at least finish this! haha

30 Days of Truth: Day 9

Breigh — Sat, 29 Jan 2011 20:20:12 +0000

One person I never wanted to lose touch with but somehow did was a friend of mine who used to live here in NL. I met her years ago when she was living here with her husband, she was really new here and she hated it with a passion. Her husband was only here on a two year contract and I hoped that she’d come around and they’d decide to stay when the two years was up, but I wasn’t so lucky.

We got to be quite good friends over those two years, so I was heartbroken when her family left to go back to the UK. We did keep in touch in the beginning when she went back but eventually it tapered off. She went through a rough period after their return, she had a second pregnancy and I believe her son was ill, and then her father died. She was really down and difficult to get a hold of.

After a while I got tired of contacting her with no responses, even though I’ll still send a message out through Facebook just in case. Perhaps we’ll pick up contact again someday but probably not.

That’s expat life… people come and go and sometimes you lose touch. It’s one of my least favorite bits… it gets difficult having friends leave all the time. I’ve decided that none of my current friends are ever allowed to leave. I’ve not told them yet but I’m sure they’ll understand.

30 Days of Truth: Day 8

Breigh — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 20:51:26 +0000

Pffft, easy. It would have to be the guy I was dating before I met Xander. We’ll call him J…. J what? Jerk? J-Douche? Jackoff? Jeeny weeny peeny?

Hey, any of the above apply. Pretty much any negative description you could come up with apply. This guy was a dick, and you know the worst part? I stayed with him for three years! Don’t ask me why, I think at some point it was just because I didn’t want to prove all my family and friends right and admit my poor poor judgement in getting together with him in the first place. It was me being stubborn.

No really, I can be stubborn, it’s true.

He lived on another island which was a fair drive from where I lived, and after months and months of us traveling back and forth I decided to move to his island. I’d vacationed there a lot with my family over the years so I knew I liked it there and I was able to get a transfer through work so I would have a job there right away.

OH, that was after my boss pleaded with me not to go. Not only because I was a great employee and we got along really well, but also because she thought it was a big mistake to move in with him. She didn’t like him and she never really made any bones about saying it.

I should have listened to her and saw this as a sign, but being me I went ahead and moved in with him anyway.

After we broke up my father told me the story of when I was moving out, and the conversation he and Jerkoff had in the driveway.

Dad: Take good care of my girl

Jerkoff: Well, that depends on her.

Story is, it took pretty much all the strength my mother could muster to hold my father in the house and stop him from going back out to throttle the guy. I sort of wish they’d told me at the time but it probably wouldn’t have made any difference. Although, I wouldn’t have been so surprised and disappointed when the first time he actually was meant to take care of me came around.

It was about three or four weeks after I’d moved, I was living in a two bedroom apartment with Jerkoff and his best friend Chris. They worked together and had already been living together so they agreed that I would move in with them.

One day I started feeling really ill, it went on for a couple of days and one morning I noticed I had this thing that looked like a water blister under my left eye. I was still working but it was getting to be a struggle because over that two or three days I started feeling really terrible. Then one day it got worse. I was incredibly sick and knew something was really wrong. Jerkoff and Chris were both at work and I didn’t feel well enough to drive… I also didn’t know where the hospital was. I called him at work and asked if he could come home and take me to the hospital because I was really sick and was getting worried… he said no.

No real reason, just … no.

I begged him to come home and take me, told him he could just drop me off afterwards and go back to work. The answer was still no.

I had no cash on me for a cab, I had no friends there yet and I didn’t know wtf to do… so I went to the internet. I logged onto an IRC chat room for the city I was living in and well, basically whined about my situation. A girl on there told me to stay put and she’d be there in a few minutes. Sure enough, not long after she was at my door to take me to the hospital. That was the first day I met Kimmy, who I’m happy to say I’m still friends with today, almost 15 years later.

She took me to the hospital and stayed with me for the dreadful wait at outpatients, chatting and doing the get to know you thing. Then stuck around to see the doctor with me and waited for the results.

I was 21 years old and I had the chicken pox.

If you’ve ever had the chicken pox as an adult, or knew someone who has, you’ll know what a special kind of hell it is.

So, I was diagnosed and ordered to go straight home and not leave the house for two weeks. Great. This was going to be awesome. That was sarcasm.

Anyway, by the time that was all over and we got back to the house, Jerkoff and Chris were home from work and then it was on like Donkey Kong.

When I came home I was tired, I felt sick and I had no particular desire to speak to him. I was ticked off and embarrassed that I had to get a complete stranger to take me to the hospital when he could have easily left work to take me. He, on the other hand, was acting like nothing had even happened, until he noticed the cold shoulder. Then I was getting screamed at. Suddenly I was the bitch, the idiot who was not being nice to him. HA!!

Yes, the nerve of me not lathering him with affection after sitting at the hospital all day with a stranger to find out I had the chicken pox. Dick.

He screamed and I screamed, and he got really nasty, so Chris yelled at him and then he yelled at Chris because… you know, he took my side. Honestly, who in their right mind wouldn’t?

Meanwhile, Kimmy had dragged me into the bathroom to try to calm me down cuz I was getting really woozy. Great introduction this poor girl had, but at least we made her day interesting.

So, that night we were at war so much so that I’m pretty sure I even passed out at one point just from sheer exhaustion from the days events and then all the fighting that followed. In the end we just weren’t speaking and he got up the next morning and went to work.

You know who went out and got me my medications, rented movies and took a day off to hang out with me? Chris, our roommate and his best friend. This guy who had known me only a few weeks, who had no real emotional investment or obligation to me at all took care of me while I was sick, while my boyfriend went on about his business and pretended it wasn’t happening.

This was at the beginning of our relationship and looking back I have absolutely no idea whatsoever why I let it go on as long as it did. I was young? Crazy? Stupid?

Stockholm Syndrome, anyone?!

About a year later he and I packed our bags and made the two day drive to Toronto, where we decided we wanted to have a go at a bigger and better life. We had arranged to stay with a member of my family, my father’s first cousin Karen. She kindly agreed to let us stay with her and her family until we got on our feet, but it wasn’t long before the same troubles started. At one point I believe she had a bit of a pow-wow with my parents and then sat me down and told me I was welcome to stay with her for as long as I wanted, she’d help me until I found a job and could get out on my own.. but he had to go. She was very clear about how she felt about him and I knew the rest of my family was in agreement, but… I LOVED him! No, I thought I did. No wait, I don’t even think I thought I did, I just felt like I’d invested so much and thought I saw a side of him that everyone else didn’t.

I got out the paper and started searching for apartments, then we moved out.

The next year or so was a blur of constant negativity. The longer I was with him the more I grew to despise him, but I felt stuck and my pride kept getting in the way.

I can’t really say I regret it because it’s a part of what lead me to where I am now. If I had left him and followed a different path I may never have ended up with Xander, and he is the best thing that ever happened to me… but I do regret having been so blindly stubborn and foolish where Jerkoff was concerned. It’s humiliating, looking back on it.

I should have listened to my parents, my boss, my friends, my cousin, my co-workers in Toronto, and everyone else who urged me to get away from him. There wasn’t a soul I ever introduced to him that didn’t get a weird vibe from him… and you know it’s bad when people actually TELL you they don’t like the person you are with.

I have to own my part of things as well, I was a hothead even back then and he and I clashed like nobodies business. Our temperaments weren’t at all compatible and that lead to a lot of hellish, hellish arguments. Beyond that though, he was just… mean. He had such a nasty streak in him that I didn’t really see clearly until long after we had split and I met Xander, someone who doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.

Anyway, when I think of the person who treated me like shit or made my life shit the most, it’s him. A guy who made me feel an inch tall the entire time we were together and couldn’t man up if his life depended on it.

From what I’ve heard through the grapevine I’m glad we went our separate ways. Not long after we split up he got another girl pregnant and denied the child was his, refusing to have anything to do with it. That sounds like him. The child is probably better off without him.

I remember a while back I was curious about what he was up to, as we all tend to be with ex’s from time to time. I Googled him and found out he’s heavily into bodybuilding now, some of the Google results were for posts he’d made on forums for steroids. Lame. I was laughing because we all know the stories about how that shit can shrink your junk, and trust me… this guy had nothing to spare.

No, seriously. It was like a button on a fur coat.

Oh, and Jerkoff, if you are reading this… this one’s for you!

Not Just A Tree

Breigh — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 15:15:18 +0000

Back in 2006 I wrote an entry titled Just a Tree? in which I spoke about my visit to the Anne Frank House and the giant chestnut tree that stands behind it.

At that time there were a lot of discussions in regards to whether they were going to cut the tree down because it was weak and in danger of falling over. It never was torn down though, and to be honest I haven’t thought about it a whole lot since. Until today.

I just visited the blog of my friend DutchBitch and learned the terrible news that not only were my veggie plants the victim of the fierce winds of late, but also Anne’s beloved Chestnut tree. It just fell right over.

This makes me sad.

The Anne Frank house is such an important part of the history of Amsterdam. Of this country even. Day after day, year after year, people come from all over the world just to step behind that bookcase and spend a few moments in the same space that Anne Frank once inhabited.

We all have a moment while we are there, where we step outside of ourselves and try to imagine even just for a second what it was like for her. We probably never come even close, how can we understand the loneliness and fear that she was experiencing at that time? There wasn’t a lot there that was truly original after all these years, but the tree was. It may have been bigger, but it was the same tree.

Now it will be gone. From now on when people visit the Anne Frank House and look out her bedroom window, what will they see?

I suppose to some it probably sounds silly. They will think It’s just a tree!, but no… it’s not just a tree. At least not to anyone who has read the book or stood in that room and seen it with their own eyes.

While looking for information after reading DB’s article, I did see something interesting. Apparently eleven saplings have been taken from the tree and were brought to the United States for planting.

Wait? … What?

Eleven saplings have been taken from the tree in Amsterdam and have been taken to the United States to be planted?

OI, Americans… get your filthy mitts off our tree babies! Who do we call about tree abduction??

Ok, that lady’s parents’ families were killed in the Holocaust, she can have a tree… but why do they get the other 10? Seriously, why is at least one of them not staying in Amsterdam, or perhaps the other neighbouring countries that are more closely tied to this bit of history.

HELL, Canada played a major role in saving their butts, why aren’t my peeps getting a tree? This is a travesty!

WAIT, crisis averted! I found another article. Give me a moment to cool my jets here…

According to this other article there are 150 saplings in Amsterdamse Bos Park.

They’re forgiven.

So there weren’t only 11 saplings, there were tons and they are all over the place. It turns out that Anne’s tree really isn’t just a tree, it’s like the Octomom of trees!

Ralph Macchio Strikes Back

Breigh — Fri, 18 Jun 2010 08:14:52 +0000

Before I show this video, I must confess that I blatantly and shamelessly ripped this off from Avitable, who found it first. I couldn’t help myself, I’m on an 80’s kick lately after umm… *cough* acquiring an 80’s Teen Movie Pack which is 57 gigs and includes pretty much every teen movie made during the 80’s. Including The Karate Kid… so how could I not laugh my ass off at this and pass it around? Forgive me, Adam! :)

Oh man, I love this shit… it’s so true, we love the stars when they turn badass. I STILL go to YouTube and watch the Natalie Portman Rap.

Oh Ralph Macchio, it has been 25 years and I still love you… even though I think it’s creepy that you still look exactly the same.

Are you a vampire?

If you are, that’s even hotter. Just sayin’.

My Main Man

Breigh — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 20:12:32 +0000

It occurred to me today that this month is the 14th anniversary of mine and Spencer’s life together. He has been with me from Prince Edward Island, to Toronto and finally over here to the Netherlands.

I found him in 1996, I was 21 and had just moved out of home for the first time. I was in a small pet shop in Charlottetown, PEI and I knew he was the one for me the minute I saw him clinging to the door of the cage calling out to me. Little did I know how much more whining he had left in him. I’m still waiting for him to run out!

He always has been quite nosy and in your face.

He will also get into absolutely everything if given half a chance.

Trying to keep him out is absolutely pointless.

It’s probably my own fault because I do spoil him a bit.

I can’t help it… How could you resist these eyes?

… or not giggle when these whiskers tickle your nose?

When it comes to me, Spencer has seniority in this house. After 14 years together, he is the longest relationship I’ve had with anyone I currently live with. Even my husband! He really is my main man, and he knows it. He rules the roost and not even Xander will cross him, he knows better!

He also knows that if he gives me this look I will back off and quit taking so many photos. He’ll always amuse me for a while but his patience does have limits. I thought Bailey was bad for giving me the stink eye! Clearly Spencer has been showing him how it’s done.

We’ve come a long way together and it hasn’t always been easy. He drives me absolutely bananas, but I love him. To be honest, I don’t think I have a choice… if I didn’t, he’d kick my ass.

I’m Twelve Again

Breigh — Tue, 25 May 2010 07:59:52 +0000

One day I was looking through some craft websites and saw these friendship bracelets. Suddenly I was 12 years old again and itching to make some. I thought back to the day when I was a kid and making bracelets with gimp was all the rage, man I loved that stuff.

I decided to start with an easy pattern to learn how to make the knots. I had all the materials needed since I have plenty of embroidery floss sitting around. I don’t think it came out too bad for my first try! I’d like to make one with a few more colors that is a bit more intricate. Maybe one for 1-2 of my friends if they don’t think they are too lame to wear :P

I don’t think I’ll be going crazy with this or making tons of them, but they are fun to make and it’s nice to know how. Makes for something easy and enjoyable to make while sitting out on the balcony in the sun.

They even have turtle patterns, you know I’ll be making one of those!

No related posts.

My Father The Mortician

Breigh — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 18:34:14 +0000

My father (seated center) and his band, The Morticians, in the ruins of Moxham’s Castle (1966)

Today an old friend of the family posted these photos of my father and his band, The Morticians, on Facebook. They were taken in the mid to late 60’s. I’ve heard a lot about the band my father played in when he was a teenager, how popular they became and all the fun they had (well, I’m sure he left some of it out, he WAS a teenager in the 60’s!), but this is the first time I’ve seen photos of it. He used to tell me all the time about how they had their photo taken in the ruins of Moxham’s Castle after it burned to the ground in 1966. I’ve never seen either of these photos until today. I find it so cool! Apparently they used to arrive at their gigs in a hearse, which I’m sure must have added just the right amount of drama to their performances.

My father (left) with his teenage band, The Morticians. Canadians might know the man next to him (James Flynn) as the Canadian entertainer Jimmy Flynn.

If you are anything like me, you find it very cool when you see photos of your parents when they were young. Especially if it’s one like this, that you’ve always heard of but have never seen.

My father is a musician, so growing up I always heard a lot of stories about the different bands he’s been in. I would hear all about how my Nana used to drive him and his band mates to their gigs, all the crazy things that would happen with the people in the crowds and all the antics he and his band would get up to. It wasn’t just family telling the tales either! More than once I’ve met someone’s parents for the first time and listened to them tell me about how they saw my father play at some time or another. I once even had to sit through a friend’s mother gushing about how much she loved The Morticians and how cute my father was.

When I was growing up my father was in a band called ‘57 Chevy. I always felt so cool when we’d go to some event that my father was playing at. I loved to listen to him sing, and I still do. There were bands before ‘57 Chevy though, and I didn’t get to witness any of those. They were just like family folk tales to me, I knew the stories by heart but sometimes it seemed so hard to imagine my dad as ever being a teenager, it was hard to believe it was all real.

My father is passionate about music and I love that about him. I could sit all night and listen to him play the guitar and sing. I love that he has something in his life that he feels so strongly about and that he is so good at, and I wish like hell I’d taken advantage of it when I was young and learned to play the guitar. He tried to teach me when I was a teenager but when he told me I had to cut my nails, it was game over.

Anyway, I love my dad. I loved getting a glimpse into his past and seeing him at a time that I know everything was exciting and new… before mom, before me… when he was just a teenage boy in a band. I especially love getting to see the Moxham’s Castle photo shoot that I’d heard so much about.

It’s been over 40 years since those photos were taken and he’s still as dedicated to his music as he was back then. I’m so proud of him and even though most of the songs he’s written make me cry, I can’t wait to get home in October and have him play for me again.