As posted on homorazzi.com

Last year I bought myself a desk.  I thought that at least if I had the proper tools to accomplish my daily writing and reasoning, that perhaps, some actual work might be accomplished within the walls of my home.  Since then I’ve gone to such lengths as to blame the lack of natural light, the absence of fresh air, or even the sound of the neighbours below me when it came to my feeble attempts at getting work done at home.  So as I sit here in the coffee shop far and away from my home, pondering the considerable funds that I’ve dispensed towards just setting up a place to work, it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps, for some of us, there will always be an incapability when it comes to getting anything done at home.  Perhaps for some of us, we will never fully settle into the places that we dwell in, and we will always be looking for a better way of life, or an excuse to rationalize why we haven’t met a personal deadline, the perfect mate, or why we haven’t arrived at where we feel we should be in our lives.

It all started at an early age in my teens.  My parents lived far away from the “hustle and bustle” of downtown Calgary, and for someone who developed an early addiction to the noises of street traffic and chaos, finding any sort of relaxation in my quiet little bedroom at the edge of town was impossible.  Along with my entirely self-created, angst-inspired imprisonment, I was also looking for any excuse for more socializing and more caffeine.  And none of this would be accomplished far and away in the suburbs; a place where I was more likely to hear the sound of a horse’s out breath, than the sparks and excitement of an impromptu street party, or the gentle words of a handsome fellow sitting beside me in a coffee shop.
So I learned over the years the skills and abilities that it took to somehow successfully get work done amongst this “hustle and bustle”, this chaos.  I adapted and adjusted my headphones accordingly, and learned to be completely content for hours on end plugging away at some piece of work; a glance at a hot guy walking by, my only distraction or break.  So when I inevitably tried in my mid-twenties to start trying to get things done around home, you can see that I was in for some struggle.  I sat myself at that new desk of mine and within minutes found myself up and about, making tea, or out on the balcony watching the cars drive by.

So when I take all these bits of information, these repetitious patterns and I start applying them to other aspects of my life, things suddenly start to make sense to me.  I look at the fact that I have lived in no less than 10 different homes and 3 different cities over the past 10 years.  I see the failed relationships and the mental barriers that I’ve built: always looking out the window for something or someone who I would consider a better “catch” or a greater frontier.  I see my anxiety and my lack of focus, and I wonder, for a person trained in the relaxing and fulfilling practices of yoga, meditation, and western herbalism, how truly zen I am.

So I’ve taken this weekend off.  I’ve given myself the rare gift of space from the city and all of its offerings.  Instead of spending my nights surrounded by bumping stereo speakers and the chaos of downtown, I’ve instead surrounded myself with the covers of my bed and the comfort of a constant stream of warm cups of tea.  Perhaps once in a while for the strongest and most durable of us, it takes complete denial of the sensory overload of the city for us to realize that we are not as invincible as we would like to think.  Perhaps, our weaknesses are all too easily hidden below the chaos of a hung-over mind, and the perpetual buzz of our blackberrys.  Once in a while it does each and every one of us a lot of good to take a step back and look at the patterns that we continue to repeat, and the things that we deny ourselves.

So it may take a long time to completely come to terms with my short –comings.  It may take me the rest of my life to settle comfortably into a home that I love or a relationship in which I feel total satisfaction.  But truthfully I must allow myself to be open to the fact that I may always be looking out the window for a better home with a better man and a better future.

Last year I bought myself a desk.  And although I tell myself every day that I’m going to start getting productive around home, sitting down and making things happen in the comfort of my office, that poor desk just sits there, alone,  gathering the dust and clutter of my always chaotic life.

As posted on homorazzi.com

I was raised in a loving and structured environment that was founded on the ideals of exploration and education.  Aunts, uncles, and my mother have all found themselves as prominent players within the educational infrastructure of Alberta.  Each of them have toiled to not only achieve the positions in which they now hold, but time and time again, have also struggled to somehow complete their jobs on a daily basis under the ever-increasing set of standards, requirements, and obligations that have been enforced upon them on a daily basis.

I’ve always imagined being an elementary student in one of the schools in which my mother has held a position.  I imagined her to be the type of hard-assed educator that expects nothing less than excellence from every one of her students.  I’ve imagined the students grumbling under their breath when they discover that they’ve landed in Mrs. Ellestad’s section in the upcoming year, knowing that she will be pushing them harder than the other teachers in school and knowing that they aren’t in for as free of a ride as some of the other teachers might have allowed.  It’s only until years down the road that these same students will realize the diligence, courage, and persistence that such educators have instilled in them at such an early age.

And as much of a hard-ass as my mother has always been, pushing her offspring and students to achieve everything that she knows they can, she’s always allowed for the sort of clarity and open-minded thought that this world not only allows for, but also has come to expect.

So when I started hearing the whispers of Bill 44 coming through the news feeds, I immediately thought of the effect that it would have on my family’s employment.  And to hear of Bill 44′s approval this morning, has not only brought a sense of fear to me for the future of education in Alberta, but also despair about the potential of educators in our country to do the best job possible preparing future generations of young folk for the diverse world in which they are a part of.

My mother returned to school in the early 90′s, a time in which the economics of Alberta were not feeling so gracious towards a hard working couple with two young children.  It was a time in which my self-employed father struggled to not only keep food on the table, but also to keep his wife in University.  But through it all she emerged at the top of her class with optimism towards her change of vocation and a bright outlook on the influence that she could have toward a group of young Canadians that would be at the forefront of a bright new future for our progressive nation.

Since that time I have seen my mother struggle and succeed in her position as an educator.  I have come home many late nights to find her sleeping amongst a pile of half-graded papers.  I have seen her spend long sunny weekends inside developing lesson plans, while still balancing all the work that goes into raising a family.  We have learned so much from each other, her strength and diligence has given me the courage to grow into the independent, intelligent gay man that I’ve become, and I’ve hated to see the pressure that she has felt from parents, superiors, and her province when it has come to what she is allowed to say and do. I have seen my mother retreat into her position, prepared to more comfortably act as a pawn of her government, than the dynamic, creative, and loving individual that she is.

I have always believed that some of the most important education that I have received in my lifetime has come to me through my family.  And although I was lucky enough to be a member of a family that embraced and supported diversity, we were never without our faults.  My mother and I struggled through the worst of my teen-angst, but slowly we learned to come to terms with the fact that neither of us were without our faults. But for all that my family provided me, it was my environment that taught me to not trust the first thing that you hear. I ask myself now where I would be if I hadn’t had an extraneous network of strong educators to help me expand and open my mind.  Before I even came out as a gay man to my parents, I had a strong back bone of support that not only came from my peers, but also from the most incredible set of educators that the Calgary Separate School system could have provided me.  Not once did any of them fear that they might have been overstepping their bounds by providing me with the independent adult thought that I so needed at the time.

We are all a part of a network of incredible connections.  We grumble when we are pushed harder than we would prefer.  More than once I’ve grumbled at a professor whose workload has prevented me from partying as hard as I would like, but I’ve always emerged at the end of the term with a greater understanding of the course material and the world around me.  If we allow our education system to be dictated completely by the diverse set of family values that permeate our lives, how are any of our educators ever going to feel free to take a risk, to push their students to question the world around them, or to cultivate the attitudes of acceptance that our world demands?

And perhaps this is why I find Bill 44 so insulting to Alberta and Canada as a whole.  To see a province of teachers once again be restricted in the ways in which they are allowed to operate, not only takes a blow to me personally because of my mother, but also because I pride myself on the free and progressive society that I continue to believe I reside in.

It’s easy to sit back and relax out here in B.C. and consider ourselves unscathed.  It’s easy to look to our eastern neighbors and scoff at the silly conservative structure that they continue to reinforce themselves within.  It’s easy to think that we have it better without their snow and their structure.  But are we really??  Are we really so immune from the attitudes that reside in the places outside of B.C.??

I guess I can only hope that we are.  And I guess that I can only hope that the youth of Alberta who are most in need of an open-mind and an open-ear find what they are looking for in places outside of the school system, because their teachers may no longer be able to provide for them what they need.

So to every educator who ever forced me to push my limits, to every educator who ever threatened to fail me, and to every educator who ever provided me with a fresh outlook on the world around me, this one is for you.

And to my mother…

The most hard-assed educator of all.