Ohhh Ontario...
Ontario, Canada. How I have come to hate you, and yet every time I really do, you suck me back in.
So I've been frustrated obviously at being stuck in the same spot for so long. I felt really suffocated in undergrad and was thrilled when I graduated to escape off to Dublin for a few months. But then inevitably I had to come back and then I spent the next 4 months planning my next escape.
So then I went away for a few months again.
But in the past few days I have realized why I used to love it here so much. I guess sometimes I feel like the only way to not feel trapped, bored, scared of the future, controlled by the past, is to run away. I know that people say this is no solution to anyone's problems, but I must say that I disagree. And I intend to prove that it is possible. More on this later...
The point issss: I love cottage country. What a revelation eh? But seriously. I spent a summer working up north and though there were tons of issues with that summer (crappy boyfriend, mean boss, bad working conditions, long and painful hours) I had one of the best summers of my life. And the reason for that was that no matter how bad of a day I was having, I woke up every morning to the most beautiful scenery. And this is a part of my theory that one's environment is really important to their mental health. Some think that I'm just a complainer (this is true) but when I have travelled to different places (strangely beautiful places) I have truly been much happier. And working up north proved this to me.
I worked on Georgian Bay and I grew to love it. It's a little too big for me, a little too deep and little too cold but it is truly lovely.
I would walk outside and look at the sunrise, the amazing bent trees made famous by the Group of Seven, and smell the sweet mixture of wood and water. That smell always brings me back to those mornings. I spent all day outside in the sun lifeguarding and watching the clouds and boats pass by. And I loved every minute of it. I loved the cold bite of the nighttime up there. I loved the sound of the cicadas that buzzed during the day and the crickets that tweeted all night. I loved the sound of the waves hitting rock, the boats buzzing along, and the creaks and groans of old wooden buildings.
These past few days have brought me back to that.
I've gone running, fended off giant horse flies, gone swimming in the cold seaweedy water, done yoga in the sun, gone kayaking, and watched the sunset from my boat. I've seen a muskrat, a small dying mouse, many strange bugs, my favourite toad who hides nearby, a red squirrel, a groundhog, and a crazy little chipmunk. I've read every newspaper, magazine and book I can get my hands on, and my brain actually has room to absorb it all!
All of these things made me remember why I loved this place so much when I was little. I used to hate travelling. My parents constantly remind me of this whenever I moan about how trapped I am and love suggesting places nearby that I could work in the future (ahem, nooo thank you, at least not for a long time.) But yeah, I just love it up there. I used to spend hours swimming, reading, and making clay sculptures out of the mud on the bottom of our old lake. We had a one bedroom cottage that we would rent for a few weeks that had bats and birds living in it but I loved that place more than anything. We were always running around barefoot and dirty and had competitions to see how far we could spit our watermelon seeds.
And even though I've seen a million sunsets up north, I still find them beautiful. And even though I've seen a million trees and a million bushes I still feel like a child in a fantasy inside the forest. And even though I've seen a million rocks I still like the way they are curved and crafted by the nature around them, and how the moss grows on them in pathways.
I guess it is easy to hate on Toronto and London but I forget that there are these places that I really used to love and still do that will always draw me home. They have their own beautiful aspects- Toronto has some awesome niches, but I forget these easily when I'm frustrated and rushing around. So I'll run away for a while but I'm guessing I'll be back. Eventually. Perhaps.
See? Even a clear pessimist can make something optimistic out of all their complaining.
The biggest health issue of our generation
I hope to report some day on the biggest issue- not just health issue- of our lifetime. I don't know when I became interested in HIV/AIDS but it has only grown in multitudes throughout the years. Pretty sure everyone is tired of me writing about it and talking about it but I cannot stop. I think when I first learned what it was I was shocked that it was affecting so much of the world, and the world's most vulnerable, because it is preventable. I had been thinking about becoming involved for a few years- signed up to volunteer for World AID's Day at Western (twice and never once got contacted) and looked at volunteering at Stephen Lewis' Foundation if I could find the time.
But I had always wanted to go and try to help or at least see what the situation really was firsthand.
Someone who really inspired me to pursue my interests in travelling and learning about this deadly virus was my friend Dallas. Yes, lame I know because she does read this blog, but I don't mean this in a sucking-up kind of way. Initially, I vaguely knew her through the student newspaper
The Gazette and began dating one of her friends. Adam told me about her blog that summer when I was stuck working in a soul-sucking bank job and I began to read it religiously. Her writing was inspiring. She worked with Western Heads East, a program through UWO that works in Tanzania in East Africa with probiotic yogurt.
My friend Rob also did the program and though I think it sounded really challenging they both definitely got something out of it. It was a life-changing experiences for a few people that I respected. Reading Dallas' blog I felt like I could relate. Like if she could handle all the pressures placed before her, such as malaria, aggressive men, being a single white female and clear minority alone in a foreign country, that I could face my fears and do the same. I drew courage from reading about her experiences.
So when I look at someone like my pseudo-role model Stephanie Nolen and think that she has captured some of the biggest stories in our generation, I feel like there are many doing the same, and yet there needs to be many more. In the book signing I saw her at she said that her AIDS stories weren't just about reporting on the virus, it was also that she was reporting on the biggest news story of our lifetime. And she was right. I hope that there is a solution, a vaccine, a magical drug to fix it all but I don't know if it will go away while I am alive. Because it is not as simple as a cure.
I did my last radio story on a professor at Schulich at Western who has been working on a vaccine for HIV/AIDS. Dr. Yong Kang is three years away from a therapeutic vaccine and six years away from a preventative vaccine if all goes well. He is less than a year away from human clinical trials of the vaccine and currently the drugs for the first trials are being manufactured in the United States. I read this in a former issue of the Alumni News from Western and almost couldn't believe what I read. I knew that I wanted to incorporate him into my journalism stories if I could. Speaking to him was so exciting and inspiring I almost didn't care if I got good clips for my radio story. He amazed me- that after twenty years of research he could be that close to a vaccine for a plague that is literally ravaging half the world.
But even if he does solve the scientific aspect of the virus it is not that simple, as a representative from the AIDS Committee of London reminded me. He said that he does not want people to think that there is a simple cure for HIV. He told me that 25 to 30 per cent of Canadians already think that there is a cure. This is ludicrous to me, but I can see how misinformed the general public was and even how misinformed I was before I worked at the HIV/AIDS clinic in Kumasi.
There are an estimated 55,000 people in Canada living with HIV/AIDS and many of these people may not know they are infected he told me. It is not necessarily something that drugs can solve and it is not so simple. Besides, there are no guarantees that the vaccine will succeed or that it will be able to fix those already infected. I was cautious in my story about these scientific innovations in the field of AIDS research to include these statistics, so that people know that it exists in Canada, that they are vulnerable and that AIDS is not an African disease.
Dr. Kang also inspired me in another way. I didn't get the full story out of him because he is a busy man, but basically I understood that when and if his HIV/AIDS vaccine succeeds he has made a deal with a Korean-based company to distribute these drugs to developing nations such as those in sub-saharan Africa for free. I don't think that eliminating AIDS will transform developing nations into developed ones, but I cannot even imagine the impact it could have. It could be revolutionary. It could be like a miracle. A Lazarus-effect for a continent, nations, halves of the world.
But there are millions more problems in the developing world. There is still malaria, tuberculosis, corruption, countries in debt, serious health care issues, safety, human rights issues, and things as simple as diarrhea that kill thousands of children. But a way to solve a world-wide problem that kills parents, vulnerable children and women, the middle-aged population and leaves grandmothers as primary caregivers could transform the economies and social settings in many nations. There is always hope of such a transformation. And I hope to follow this story throughout my life.
I don't know where I'm going with this as I often don't, but I have been mulling this story around in my head for a few weeks. I want to tell more, do more, see more. I need to do that wherever I am.
1/3 Master's...how 'bout that
Soooo, I'm done the first semester of my Master's degree. And to be quite honest I'm underwhelmed. I had a lot of extreme frustrations these past few months and they have really made me doubt my educational decisions. I think that getting into Ryerson's journalism program last week really threw me off because I was just getting into the work, and then all of a sudden I wasn't sure if I was in the right place anymore.
I think that I decided to do a Master's in journalism because I love writing. And yet I hated the first section of print more than anything. Like swearing, ranting, angry hatred of what they made writing become for me. I didn't enjoy writing anymore. It had become hokey and frustrating. But my faith was renewed when I started television and my profs were so amazing and experienced and excited about their jobs. Sure, we were still covering very local stories but they weren't so boring- they were challenging. Radio, something I had never thought I would enjoy, I absolutely loved. We were encouraged and got to do live broadcasts and I was able to write and read about international news and local news. I was able to focus on things I found interesting.
So this past week after making a really tough decision about whether this program was going to put me in the right direction I got kind of thrown for a loop. I didn't get into the only international reporting class available throughout the whole progam. It sounds totally stupid I agree, but I was trying to tell myself that this program was right for me and not getting into one of the only classes I truly wanted to take made me so upset. Crying in the bathroom, freaking out at the administration upset. What the hell am I doing this program for if I can't even get into a course that I want to take so badly? It is the only reason I am doing this program- not the course- but the fact that I want take my skills abroad.
When I got the text message in Ghana from my sister saying I got into my Master's at Western I was shocked. I was loving life there, writing like mad, re-thinking life all the time, and not sure if I was ready to be back in London, Ontario. But I hoped that a degree would further my academic love and help me to articulate the feelings I had and lead to some sort of future career.
And yet it has left me feeling discouraged rather than accomplished. I feel trapped and angry and my rageaholism is at an all-time high. I was happy this program was only a year so that I could try to do a Journalists for Human Rights program and go back to Africa. People think that living there is hard- and it is- but living there gave me something to smile about every single day. I would feel sick or be extremely hot and a child or a person would say something or do something that made me smile. And I don't have that right now. I feel upset and people ignore me. I feel angry and someone honks and cuts me off while driving. I'm trying not to be bitter but I'm just feeling really stuck. Hopefully this break will give me some perspective.
I really didn't realize how badly I wanted to do international journalism until people told me that I couldn't. When our print professors told us that we would be lucky to work at the St. Mary's Times I was like, what the hell? It made me angry. It made me more determined than ever. I know a degree means nothing and determination means everything. So I just have to keep on track, pull myself together, control my anger, and push forward and do what I want despite the fact that people or administration don't think I can or don't feel like letting me.
