My Health: Your Reminder

I’ve put off this post for a while, and to my detriment. I have a ton of ideas swirling in my head. Meanwhile, for some reason I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of releasing them until I get past this subject.

I should warn you that this post is a personal one. Some of the content might offer TMI. It’s definitely different from the lighter fare I usually share.


Over the past few months I’ve faced an interesting health challenge. It’s been nothing critical, yet nothing to sing about, either.

Dear (Female) Reader, I’ve had a very uncomfortable and somewhat dangerous experience with fibroids.

Fibroids can be tricky. Some women have them and experience no symptoms. That was me, years ago, when I first learned I had them. However, in 2014, my luck ran out.

Thankfully, my problems seem to have been solved via emergency surgery. It’s been over a week, and I’m doing well! (The only problem that remains now is anemia. My hemoglobin is ridiculously low, and I’m on an iron supplement.)

I don’t know if I’ll share more information in the future. When I first drafted this post, it was epic. I’ve since decided to edit myself.

However, I will address the core of what I wanted to say:

When it comes to your health, DO NOT procrastinate.

Think about it. You may balk at the idea of missing a few hours of work or–in my case, school–because of a medical appointment or two. But isn’t that better than missing days or weeks because you’re physically not up to par?

Thank God I wised up and took time off in my final month of classes. Prior to that, though, my behaviour still has my head shaking.

I was doing my best to be my normal self. I was a full-time student, trying to live her full-time life.


Regarding the female reproductive system, although I reckon there are exceptions, there are also a few guidelines that I’m aware of. Generally speaking, your periods shouldn’t last longer than 7 days. You should not have to change your feminine hygiene products in under an hour. (That’s not just me talking. That’s perfectly Google-able information. ;) )

Now, for all I know, you may think it’s disgusting that I’ve mentioned menses. But my concern is that somewhere out there, there’s a woman who is thinking the way I was. She might be ignoring her menstrual changes, dragging herself to the doctor because of severe weakness (caused by anemia), all the while ignoring the reason she has anemia in the first place.

I’m on the other side now. But over the past few weeks, I was almost inconsolable. I felt like I was slowly bleeding to death.

Care for yourselves, please.

I never thought something that seemed as harmless as my period would leave me evaluating how seriously I take myself, or how much I value my life.

And yet, here I am.

Thank God.

I’ve been working…

On my Tumblr.

Long ago a friend suggested create a writing portfolio. I’m still deciding where it will be.

As for this post, a few weeks ago I started studying copywriting via Skillshare. I’m behind–and I’ll post about why soon. ;) But as soon as I started, I was inspired to create some fake advertisements.

Check them out!

Stretch Studio - Urban

I can’t take credit for the photos in either of these. I found them on Flickr.

a4gpa took the photo used for the ad above and shared it with an Attribution Non-Commercial Share-Alike license. Just looking at it inspired me. I wonder if a place that’s as funky as Stretch Studio actually exists–even if it’s not in Toronto.

Toronto - 2

In this piece, I used a shot by Pedro Szekely, who presented his work under an Attribution 2.0 license. It’s such a gorgeous shot–it almost broke my heart to crop it.


This is one of those random stories I was talking about…

I was about 34 and in his office.

He, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more than 27.

This wasn’t the only time this would happen to me. Chastized, scolded, treated as an underling, when in fact, I was someone’s elder.

To what did I owe this encounter?

Somehow, it had gotten out that I had called Mrs. Smith–the teacher I had been summoned to replace. The subject? French.

Years ago, I’d known it well enough to have kept a drunken Quebecois man at bay. Yet to contend with a room full of teenagers…?

Something in the day’s instructions had given me pause.

So I picked up the phone.

Our exchange had been light, airy–even sunshiny.

“Have a lovely time with my kids!”


“Let me know if you need anything else!”

But here I was, sitting on the opposite side of the vice principal’s desk.

For some reason, the fact that I’d dared to call a colleague was alarming.

I was being reprimanded. I was there without cause, and I was in shock.

I held my tongue. For a second, I considered the expression on my face. Did I look afraid? I was.

Any misstep with these people could mean the end of my career.

All the while, I had wanted to defend myself…

Did you know that I used to go here? If you look closely enough at the photos of the alumni in the hallway upstairs, you’ll find me. (I’d wanted to add “…before you were born….” to my imaginary rant. I’d wanted the VP to feel the weight that the phrase could bring, even though it wasn’t accurate.)

Did you know that some of the teachers and staff who knew me still work here?

This school was every bit my turf as it was his.

And then there was the question that I wanted to ask most of all…Why are you talking to me like I’m 12? I’M A PROFESSIONAL!! I hadn’t called Mrs. Smith so I could ask her how to bake a pie. I know how to speak to my colleagues. I may be sweet, but I am not a fool.

There are a few things that I reckon I will miss about my non-career as a teacher. The rudeness of some of my coworkers is NOT one of them.

Tell your tales.

If you haven’t watched this video, please do.

Chimamanda inspires me. She and I are around the same age. More importably, she’s had the courage to tell her stories, while I have not.

Over the time I’ve had this blog, I’ve wrestled with the idea of telling every random story that’s on my mind. Some of them seem like a departure from the pop culture/TV/spirituality paradigm that I’ve set up. Yet I know that silence has done me a disservice. There are too many singular stories floating around. By speaking, I know that I have the power to offer a new level of reality to the limited narratives that exist.

Well, well, well.

This is what I get for being a fan of truth-tellers.



Since finishing TV school, I’ve been in a curious space.

In the past, I would have been frightened.

I’m looking for work. I’ve started to send out applications.

And nothing is happening…Yet.

A part of me can’t help but wonder. What am I (not) doing? I need something to happen–NOW!!!

Meanwhile deep down, my sense of hope is strong.

I can’t help but feel as though something good is on the other side of this “nothing”.

I just wish I knew what it was.

Dear Religion: Do better.

It’s been a while.

I was happy with not writing about religion. I was doing fine enjoying my God-given life without mentioning it. And then this article showed up in my Twitter timeline.

Reading my namesake’s story reminded me of my childhood. When I was younger I attended a couple of Christian elementary schools. I remember in grades 5-8, at my second school, we had more than cliques to deal with. We had cliques and hormones. (Yay!?!) My classmates never thought I was attractive. But there were a few girls whose appearance made them notorious.

They were what “the world”–aka any typical human being–would consider attractive. Thin. Beautiful. At least two of them were blonde. One of my (female) teachers seemed obsessed with preying on them for little more than the way they looked. (This was before the notion of the “hot Christian woman” became popular. Back then, I think they were regarded as young Jezebels.) We were never BFFs, but I used to hear tales of them being reprimanded regarding nonsensical things such as the length of their skirts and whether or not they were wearing lipstick.

I’ve never talked about slut-shaming on my blog. (I know what it means, but I don’t care for the term.) That said, I’ve always been amazed at people who believe that saying Jesus’ name excuses them from just about everything. Those folks need a newsflash. I think it’s high time they realized that “knowing Jesus” does not give anyone the right to be as bigoted or ignorant as they like.

Honestly…Certain things are evil not because they actually are, but because people have chosen to make them so. I wish more religious individuals understood this. Grown men need to learn to control their sexual urges. At the very least, if they struggle with controlling them, they ought to be able to grasp that having sexual impulses does not entitle one to think of the object(s) of their desire as the enemy.

Just last week I was contemplating a so-called controversial issue and religious people’s inability to deal with it. I remember thinking, “All these people…I wonder if they know that God expects them to be sensible.” God gave us our brains. We must not be afraid to use them.


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