My Canucks

My Canucks became my Canucks when I could understand hockey: when I was about 4 years old. 25 years have passed since I feel in love with Captain Kirk, Lumme, Hedican, Ronning, Linden, Babych, Odjick, Diduck, Slegr, Courtnall, Bure, and all the other guys my memory cannot remember. That was the team I adored. Over the years many players have played for my team: Potvin, Snow, Ohlund, Naslund, Bertuzzi, O'Brien. The team I adore now have won the hearts of many across BC and Canada, not just mine: Sedin (22), Sedin (33), LUUUUUONGO, Schneider, Kesler, Burrows, Higgins, Torres, Malhotra, Lapierre, Raymond, Bieksa, Ehrhoff, Rome, and Salo. I was such a diehard fan when I was younger I drew, with Pastel, the flying skate on my wall when my aunty told me not to. I got in so much trouble for doing that, but it didn't matter. I represented my Canucks!

Game 7 vs. The Rangers. I can remember the electricity in the air that day, it seemed like all of Vancouver was on edge. It was all I could think about that day, I envisioned Linden hoisting the cup and skating around Madison Square and passing it to Mclean and all the other Canucks, then I remember the heartbreak when the Rangers posted two goals. I thought it was all over then! In comes Linden to respond with a goal, and another in the third but that damn Messier had to spoil my party. All my hopes and dreams went out the window. I cried that evening. Not because my Canucks had lost in game 7 of the Stanley cup final, but because all my fellow fans were destroying my city.

Gino Odjick was the first Native hockey player to suit up for the Canucks so he immediately became my favorite player. Whenever he knocked some heads I cheered extra loud! I cheered louder when he scored goals! One of the events I was at with my naani invited Gino to attend, when it was his turn to speak to the crowd he lit a cigarette and sung a song while holding the cigarette up in the air. He was like superman to me; I was bedazzled to see a Canuck show off his culture in front of the crowd of people. I asked my grandmother if I could give Gino something as a gift and she gave me a beaded bracelet to give to him. Turns out it was a few sizes too small for him but he put it in his pocket any way.

Throughout the years I’ve been a Canucks fan I’ve always been proud of them. Facing criticism from my friends that they’ve never won a Cup, or that their goalie sucked, has never bothered me. The thing of it is, I’m not just a fan cheering for a team, the Vancouver Canucks are a part of my identity, and they are a part of who I am. They’ve become so deeply engrained in my life that I’m going to die cheering for them.

For as much a Canucks fan as I am, I haven’t been to many of their games, or even own a jersey. My first Canucks game was at the Pacific Coliseum and the Winnipeg Jets were in town. My Canucks kicked ass coming through with a 6-1 win over the Jets. The next game I ever went to was this season, 2010-2011, at Rexall Place versus the Oilers. They won, of course. I went to the following 3 games they played here in Edmonton. They won 3 out of 4 games.

The winning part was just a slice of the pie for me, being able to see my Canucks up close was the best part, seeing Luongo and the Sedin twins, Burrows and Malhotra, all of the them, play during warm up was so inspiring. I wanted to be on the ice with them! The feeling of excitement I had all day paralleled that electric feeling I had back in ’94 and the nervousness of walking into Rexall and the evoking feeling I had as I stepped into the main arena to see my Canucks warming up was lump-in-the-throat amazing! The best part of it was that I was only 9 rows up from the ice!

My toolbar on my computer has a shortcut to the NHL standings so I followed their ascent up the standings all year long. My Macbook, by the way, sports a Canucks sticker where everyone can see it. I loved the many times this past season where I could gloat to my friend Ross, a die hard Oilers fan, about how well the Canucks were doing and how bad the Oilers lost. Again. And when the Canucks finally blew past Philly I was a happy camper, I knew they could go all the way this year! I wasn’t concerned with the President’s trophy, I envisioned Henrik hoisting Lord Stanley like I did with Linden!

The Chicago Blackhawks came up the very first round in the playoffs, memories shivered in my psyche but I knew they could do it, the Hawks relied on a rookie goalie more than they did their other players. Blackhawks down.

The Nashville Predators weren’t a concern for me, Rinne did make me nervous a few times but I knew Lu and Kes could pull us through. The Predators became the prey.

The San Jose Sharks brought back more memories with Niemi in net, the one who carried The Hawks to the Cup the previous season and, obviously, ended the Canucks’s dreams. Again. I also remembered how we swept the Sharks in last season’s Cup run. No way Jose.

As I followed the Eastern Conference, a part of me wanted Tampa to win, I knew my Canucks would make a quick meal out of them and the aging Roloson, but the competitive part wanted Boston to win. A few weeks earlier I was sitting in Timmy’s and a man walked by wearing a Bruin’s jersey and that’s when my vision came clear: It’s gonna be the Canucks v. Bruins for the Cup! Lo and behold there they were at Roger’s Arena for game one of the Stanley Cup final!

My Canucks came out swinging and made quick work for the first two games, up 2-0 heading to Boston was a confidence booster but there was a stirring inside that told me that the Bruins weren’t going to lay over and give up. The teams ping ponged games 3, 4, 5, and 6 and then it was game 7.

Home game teams were 6-0 in the series so I knew we had the Cup. I looked at the Bruins who had won 2 previous game 7’s but that didn’t worry me one bit. All day long I was anxious and nervous and worried. I was worried because every time I didn’t watch the start of the game, the Canucks lost and I was scheduled to be at work for the first 2 hours of the game. At work my mind was not there, all I wanted to do was check my twitter feed to find out what’s happening in Roger’s Arena. I wonder today if the family I was working with could tell my mind wasn’t in that room that night. On my way home I got a text from Ross: 3-0 Boston. My heart sunk, but then I remember how many times we came from behind for the win and kept the faith. Not once while watching my Canucks during these playoffs did I shut the TV off when they were losing. Against the Hawks when they lost 7-2 and 5-0. Against the Bruins 8-1, 4-0, and 5-2. Three minutes to the end of game 7 it was 3-0 and I shut the TV off. I was too sad to watch Chara hoist the Cup.

I was at the Friendship Center in Vancouver and one of the Elders there made this observation: “You wanna know why the Canucks have never won a Cup? Because they didn’t ask for permission to use that logo they have”, she was referring to the First Nations design they are using as their logo. She may have some merit to that claim; the Edmonton Eskimo had an Elder bless their field and locker room by an Aboriginal Elder for the 2011-2012 season. Let’s see where that brings them!

2011 and 1994 have riots in common; once again I was sad more that some so-called Canucks fans were destroying my city. They let the loss outshine the fact the Canucks finished on top of the pack for the season; no team was better than them. They forgot about the fact that we took home the President’s Cup, or the Sedin’s have consistently been the top scorers in the league. Not to mention the stellar performance by Lu and all the Canucks on this season’s Cup run…what everyone forgot was that the Canucks did what they do best: win. There isn’t anything that can be done to shake my love for the Canucks, cup or no cup. Like I said: They are a part of who I am now

100 things about me.

1. I am a father to 2 beautiful girls

2. I am walking my journey with the most beautiful woman in the world

3. I am Haida/Carrier but I only know of my Haida side

4. I am an ex-meth addict

5. I like nectarines

6. I have 2 tattoos, one of the tree of life getting struck my lightning (symbolizes life and courage) and the other is of my baby’s hand print.

7. I like to wear shades

8. Sometimes, when alone, I pretend that I’m a Jedi

9. I love music. All kinds of music, but I don’t like country or opera.

10. I have a scar on my left wrist and one on my right knuckle.

11. I like long walks off short piers.

12. I lost my virginity in a Tipi

13. I was very close to my great grandparents when I was young.

14. I love to travel.

15. I love the Vancouver Canucks

16. I have really intense eyebrows

17. I have big lips.

18. If you google my name, Damian Abrahams, you might mistake me for Damian Abraham, the singer of a band called fuk’d up.

19. I do my best to not step on ants

20. I’ve never met my father.

21. I have a piece of argillite in my forehead

22. I like the Zombie genre

23. I have a 76% chance of surviving the zombie apocalypse

24. I have relied on auto-correct to spell apocalypse. Every single time.

25. My uncle and aunt called me “fruitfly” when I was young because I loved fruit. I still do love fruit!

26. I like Sprite, if it’s fountain it MUST be without ice.

27. I’m a cook at heart, I love to experiment cook!

28. I am an Android enthusiast

29. I’m a Mac, never going back to PC. Ever.

30. I don’t bite my nails. Anymore.

31. I’ve lived in Vancouver, Masset, Port Moody, New Westminster, Mission, Hatzic, Victoria, Maple Ridge, Edmonton, and Belle Ewarte (Ontario).

32. Edmonton is my current home.

33. I’ve had acne problems my whole life.

34. I’ve had problems with dandruff my whole life.

35. I am currently writing a book about my life.

36. I was once homeless in 3 different cities in 2 different provinces.

37. I’ve eaten Ostrich: it tastes like ostrich.

38. I’ve eaten alligator: It, too, tastes like ostrich.

39. I’ve eaten turtle: It tastes like turtle.

40. I’ve eaten eel: It tastes gross.

41. I once tried my hand at long distance hitch hiking.

42. I always try to see the positive in things first.

43. I pick up newpaper boxes that’ve been knocked over.

44. I always let woman go first.

45 I hold doors open for people.

46. I don’t often talk about my awards or my accomplishments for fear that I would be bragging.

47. I don’t like braggarts.

48. I like anomalies, they make life more fun.

49. I am not very good with money, but I’m learning to control it.

50. You are half way there!

51. Despite all the drama in my life, I didn’t do very well in drama class.

52. I have an iPod Touch that keeps me sane.

53. Although I shouldn’t be, I am shy to sing in front of people. But I do it anyway.

54. Although I shouldn’t be, I am shy to dance in front of people. But I do it anyway.

55. I stop and smell the flowers.

56. I love the rain.

57. I love cloudy days.

58. For some odd reason, and this has been throughout my whole life, I’ve been often been the only male in the group.

59.  I am very tall. No, I do not play basketball

60. Despite all my promises to myself and the many tired days, I still stay up late.

61. If I watch an action movie, suddenly I’m a ninja.

62. If I watch a zombie movie, suddenly I’m the sole survivor of the zombie apocalypse. I still needed the auto-correct.

63. I am often complimented on my humor. Yet when I try to be funny, I’m not.

64. I try to make the lives of the people around me easier.

65. I’m a leo.

66. I once wrote an essay called “My House on the Moon” in response to the violence in the home I was living in. It’s about how far I wanted to be when they were fighting.

67. I still have to look at the keyboard when I type. That said, I’m still good at typing.

68. I failed stats 3 times before I passed.

69. I’m going to be the second person in my family that reached a Master’s level of Post Secondary education.

70. I’ll be the first in my family to receive a PhD.

71. I listen to Britney Spears, one song from Justin Beiber, and a few songs from Christina Aguilera.

72. I wear contact lenses.

73. I have dreams of being a DJ.

74. I have a bucket list.

75. I’ve been the recipient of the Alberta Aboriginal Youth Achievement Award

76. I was nominated to the National Aboriginal Role Model Program.

77. I don’t have any of my wisdom teeth.

78. Oddly, having my wisdom teeth removed was the wisest thing I ever did.

79. I have a boisterous laugh when something is very funny.

80. I am rediscovering what it’s like to be a kid.

81. I still find myself worrying about what people think about me.

82. I find it hard to initiate conversation or even make eye contact with people.

83. If I can get away with not saying hi to someone, I will.

84. I have to be extremely mindful of what I say, if not I may tell a lie.

85. Eminem and I have very similar lives, only I’m not nearly as famous as he.

86. when I  go hunting I am very scared to shoot the gun, not because I don’t want to kill something, but because I don’t wanna get “scoped”

87. I’ve been scoped two times. It hurts. A lot.

88. I try to take the best of everything and what makes sense to me, as a belief system.

89. I’m an Anglican, but do not follow that way.

90. Rather than telling someone I care, I try to show them.

91.   I am handsome, smart, and have a good sense of humor (when I don’t try).

92. I pretend to get in fights all the time, especially when it comes to dumb drivers.

93. I’ve participated in 2 consecutive CIBC Run for the Cure’s

94. Of any superpower available, I’d chose walking through things.

95. I was on the LRT that ran over two teenagers and saw some horrific things; riding the train the very next day was just as hard.

96. I am the resident manager of my complex, 6 years ago I was homeless.

97. When I do dishes, I find myself drying my hands only to put them in water right after.

98. I have one eyebrow hair that sticks straight out on my left brow, no matter what I do or how many times I pluck it out, it remains.

99. I am very resourceful and I know how to find information quickly.

100. My greatest asset is my ability to see things for what they are, not what people dilute them to be.

My mom

I love my mother. To be entirely truthful, she hasn't been the best parent and hasn't taught me the lessons needed for my life today. I still love her though. My mom and I were introduced by a doctor in the Grace Hospital in Vancouver BC almost 30 years ago. My mom brought us up to Haida Gwaii where we lived for quite a while. I was introduced to my naani and her naani. My naani Leila and tsiini Matt became my best friends. It isn't clear as to why I ended up living with Lily and Freeman Bell, to me at least, but it was the start of many foster moms.

Please forgive me, as this early time in my life is very vague and I am positive that I am confabulating some of this story!

The only real memory I have of living with Lily and Freeman are of Freeman drying his back after a shower and telling me not to fiddle. I thought he was talking about a fiddle, the kind to play! Memories are but whispers of this time of my life, but I do remember all the jelly fish in the water off the government docks. Millions of them just appeared out of nowhere. I remember trying my hardest to chop down the pole that was in naani's front yard, the pole is still there by the way; I went and checked when I went back to Haida Gwaii for my naani's funeral. I remember playing by the tree line at the end of McBride, always too afraid to go into the forest because that's where naani kooka, gaghiit, and the kuugana live. My mind flashes to Vancouver again, my mom and I are living above Guys and Dolls, a pool hall where my mom would go and do mom stuff. Drink I imagine. My mom tells me that one day my real dad, who I've never met even to this day, was in the pool hall and asked if I wanted to come meet him. I didn't want to because of all the nasty things my mom told me about him. I kind of regret not meeting him when I had the chance.

My mind flashes again to looking for my cat, the one I stole from a boy at the park. I loved that cat. We were "looking" all over for my cat because we had to give it away to Carol McNeil, my mom's friend in Maple Ridge. We were "looking" because I knew all along where my cat was, he was sleeping behind the bathtub. I remember the time when I was on my way to school at Florence Nightingale Elementary and I discovered a secret entrance to the candy bins at the grocery store. I was able to steal handfuls of caramel cubes with nobody knowing. My operation was foiled one day by the manager who told me they had a camera on me the whole time. Again, my brain told me that it was my mom's boy friend who had the camera and from that day on I figured that Perry had an x-ray camera and could see me where ever I went. I vaguely remember living with my aunty Norma in an apartment building somewhere in Vancouver. I don't remember how old I was or how long I was with her, I do recall a little teddy bear, a pink or yellow one...

From Vancouver my mom and I, more my mom, obliged Perry and we were off to Ontario to be with his family. We arrived, I believe, on time for Christmas. Christmas was awesome that year because I got the biggest gift there. I don't even know where there was, but it was with Perry's family. I got a GT. Props if you remember those! I'm pretty sure Perry's mom's name is/was Carol. And I am 100% positive that his father's name is/was Ron. In my mind my mom abandoned me when I needed her the most, she wasn't there to protect me when Ron interrupted my Scooby Doo show to abuse me sexually. Ron Marsden is his name, he took my innocence from me and my mom wasn't there to stop him. Ron kept this up for a long time before anyone knew about it. It turns out that Perry was beating my mom up, one night I stayed up listening to him hit her, and her screaming. There wasn't anything I could do, I was too small. It was that night that I told myself that I would protect my mom when I could. We had always pretended to be happy, my mom would make me cheese and mayonnaise sandwiches for school and as I was driving away on the school bus she'd be waving over the curtain in the kitchen. That actually made me feel special, none of the other kid's moms waved at them.

One night my mom came into my room and pointed at a house fire some distance away. She said it would be cool to go see it up close so we left, but she told me not to put any clothes on, that we had to just leave. By this time my brother Bryan had been born, so the three of us went out into the cold barely dressed to go see this house fire up close. My mom was escaping actually, she was protecting us from Perry. She talked to a police officer who set us up in a transition home until my mom could make arrangements to get back to BC. It took a whole week to get back to BC and I don't remember a single thing about the trip, only that my mom got out at the border of BC and Alberta to literally kiss the ground.

My mind is all jumbled up right now, we went to live with Carol, the one who I gave my cat to, we lived in Mission where Perry and my mom got back together. Also where my other baby brother Perry Jr. was born. My naani Leila came out to live with us for a while. I also lived with my aunty Norma in New Westminster for a while too. Somewhere in there I lived in more foster homes about an hour out of Mission with Ray and Debbie who were hardline, bible thumpin Christians. Ray and Debbie are responsible for me not liking organized religion today! They are also responsible for me not liking myself to the extent that I loathed myself. They were not good foster parents at all.

Now, my mind just jumped to time in my life that my mom denies ever happened. I cannot remember what I did or said, but my mom disowned me. "Fuck off! And don't ever talk to me again!" So I fucked off, and never talked to her again. I'm not even sure how long her and I didn't talk to or about one another. I do remember when we started talking again though. I was in Haida Gwaii, visiting my naani and aunty. I was at Norma's place digging in the crisper when suddenly the front door opened and in walked my mom. My heart dropped into my feet and I stopped breathing and my whole body just froze. I didn't know what to do, and even if I did know what to do, I wasn't physically capable of it. I'm pretty sure my mom reacted the same way when I finally found the strength to stand up and turn around to face her. We didn't talk right away. She ignored me so I knew that she still didn't want to talk. She told Norma that she brought Crabs for supper, I looooooove crab so I was disappointed that I wasn't getting any because that's how my mom is, when you piss her off, you don't get ANYTHING from her, not even a crumb. So I left. When I came back I was super starving and was digging around again for something to eat, I dare not touch the left over crab. My mom came down from upstairs and was standing behind me. "I saved some crab for you" was all she said. I twirled around and gave her the biggest hug and we've been talking ever since!

I've flashed forward to Fraser street, Dennis, Flo, and her son who got me in trouble so many times setting his stupid fires. It's where my mom gave me my first toke of a joint, and it's where she left me so many times to go drinking. I would sit in the front  room and just stare down the street waiting for her. I don't even know how many times she left me alone. One night she surprised me by bringing home chicken from Church's Chicken. SHE DOES CARE ABOUT ME! SHE BROUGHT HOME FOOD! It took only one time bringing home food to renew my love for my mom, never mind the days on end that I starved while she was out drinking. That place on Fraser was the last time I ever lived with my mom.

From there I moved in with my gaagi Frank who lived in Victoria, and from Frank's I moved into my last foster home when he decided to move back to Haida Gwaii. And from my last foster home I moved out on my own, which I failed at, but that's a whole other story :)

Yes, my mom failed as a parent, she failed to protect me when I was getting sexually abused, she failed to nurture me, cloth me, and make me feel safe. But she did the best that she could with what she had. I'm sure if she knew what Ron was doing to me, she'd stop it, if she knew how to nurture and console a child, she would have. If my mom knew how to express her feelings, she would have. We have residential school to thank for all of that parental breakdown. I love my mom, without her, I wouldn't be here to tell you all about her.

Our Own Mandela

Let me start by offering you a quote from Ghandi: Be the Change you Wish to See in the World. In other words, if you want to see something different, make it happen. Even if you don't have the resources to do it, don't wait for someone else to do it, the least you can do is get the ball rolling on your vision and other people can build on your foundation. The source of this blog has come from my many ponderings about Aboriginal people in Canada. And by Aboriginal (notice the capital A?) I mean First Nations, Metis, and Inuit people. The Aboriginal people are, for the most part, seperated. There has been no united uprising to assert our rights over the land that took care of us so many decades ago. We're just letting things happen as if we have no say in the matter. Let me tell you: We Do. There has been no united uprising to abolish the Indian Act or the need for status cards. Canada is the only country that has these types of documents for their Indigenous people. Side note: Did you know that the word Indigenous means "naturally occurring"?

As much as I'd like to see such documents gone, such an event would mean that our treaty rights would also be lost. No more medicine chest, no more education, no more five dollars a year, no more reservations. Essentially, the Government of Canada would no longer be holding our hand. As a person who is accessing these rights, it would be difficult to adjust to living a life without these freedoms. Having to pay for antibiotics alone would be hard to do as a student living on a student income. My education would also be paid out of my own pocket but these past couple years I did not meet the criteria for funding from my band and had to take out a student loan anyway. Let me tell you that it's not such a bad thing to have to pay  for your own education! It feels better, actually.

Abolishing the Indian Act and our Status Cards means that the Government of Canada is no longer looking down at us as an inferior people. John A. Macdonald, the dude on our ten dollar bill, was a wannabe lawyer and our very first Prime Minister. In a redirection, I'll tell you that I am the product of the British Columbia government. At an early age I had become a ward of the court and it was the responsibility of the BC Government to see that all my needs were met. I was placed in foster care. Well, my needs were not met, being in foster care was the worst thing that could have been done to me. I grew up not knowing my family, my people's language, xaad kil, not really having any long term friends, and having issues against Religion. Going back to J.A Macdonald, he was a key player in introducing the Indian Act back in 1876. The Indian Act's service was to direct the government on how to deal with Indians. Basically it put us as wards of the court.

A Summary of the Indian Act of 1876
Articles 1-2 states the name of the Article as the Indian Act and which Minister is responsible for Indian Affairs.
Article 3 defines the label "Indian" as "any male person of Indian blood reputed to belong to a particular band, any child of such person, and any woman who is or was lawfully married to such person".
Articles 4-10 deals with administration of reserve land.
Articles 11-20 deals with how reserve lands are protected from outsiders, as well the government's right to natural resources on reserve land. That being, the Indians own anything under the surface down one spade's length deep.
Articles 21-2 determines what to do in the event of any reserve splitting up.
Articles 23-4 has the Indians responsible for the roads on reserve land.
Articles 25-30 are consequences for illegal attainment of reserve land, the sale of Alcohol, and the removal of resources.
Articles 31-69 deals with the sale of Indian lands.
Articles 74-8 deals with the swearing in of non-Christian Indians in Court matters.
Articles 79-85 deals with substance abuse on reserve land. And the final articles deal with legal clauses regarding the use of affidavits and other documentary evidence used under the Act.

Which brings me to the title of this blog: "Our Own Mandela"
We need our own, Aboriginal, Nelson Mandela. If you don't know who Mr. Mandela is you've been living under a rock. Mr. Mandela was responsible for abolishing Apartheid in South Africa. South Africans fell under Apartheid which was like our Indian Act: a way of dealing with Indigenous South Africans introduced by the National Party Government of South Africa in the 40's and was upheld until the mid-90's. Basically, Apartheid asserted White rule over non-white people. In 1994 the African National Congress won the first democratic election held in South Africa in decades. Their leader was Nelson Mandela. Mr. Mandela's sacrifices for his people were many and started at an early age. He was punished for treason and jailed on Robben's Island for several decades. For all of his sacrifices, his people were united on voting day. 20'000'000 people voted on April 27th 1994. Twenty Million. 12'510'000 people voted for Nelson Mandela. Mr. Mandela is a great man who did more than his share for his people, he is one of my true hero's and I would love the opportunity to meet him. Even imagining me meeting him right now is bringing tears to my eyes. The Jungle Book song comes to mind and I wonder if I would sing it to him if I ever get to meet him: You see it's true! I wanna be just like you!

Aboriginal people do not have a Nelson Mandela. Mr. Mandela used politics to unites his people but we have not been primed to appreciate politics as it has been used to assimilate our people where we had to forfeit our status cards and treaty rights if we wanted to vote. So I am left with wondering what it will take to unite our people all across Canada, can we put our indifference on politics aside and really take it to hand in the political arena? Can we cast aside our crabs in the bucket policy and let some of our strong, Aboriginal leaders lead us? Can we really put down the bottles and pipes and our dependency on government handouts to take our lives into our own hands? I should think so!

peaceful chaos

Life is simple from up here; its quiet and calm allows time to slow down. The screen embedded in the seat in front of me says we are travelling at just about 600 miles per hour. I look out the small, oval window and my senses tell me otherwise. It’s like we’re timelessly suspended between heaven and earth. Only the airy drone of the fuselage cutting through the atmosphere keeps us company. The constant, indiscernible chatter of the other passengers, and the smiling flight attendants are the only reminders that time really exists.

On the ground, life is accelerated. Honking, concrete, lights telling you what to do, it all blends together like a smear of charcoal on an artist’s canvas. Always only fifteen minutes to get here, ten minutes to get there, late for that meeting. It’s frustrating waking up one day only to find out ten years has gone by in a blink. The trick is to be fast yet slow like the wind outside the small, oval window: blowing at hundreds of kilometers an hour, yet peaceful and calm.

A Political Definition

It occurred to me during one of my many ponderings that politics is really very boring. Never one to have a thought and not follow through with it, I began to think of why politics are boring. Politics, after all, touch every single Canadian and should be something that all Canadians are interested in. A Housing or employment Bill brought through the legislature can affect whether you can afford the next house, or even end up homeless, or take you off the street and into your first home in 10 years. Taxes rise more often than they fall, but it’s the government that decides the trajectory and velocity of taxes. No one can escape the grasp of the government whether that government is your town, province, or country. I find things boring if I don’t understand them, so in my pondering I concluded that politics are boring to youth because we don’t understand them! I lay no claim to fully understanding them myself, but I do pay attention to how governments are run. We’ll start with the basics.

Municipal Government-These are the people who run the city or town you live in. They consist of the Mayor and his councilors. The Councilors represent a different area of your city. Elections are typically held every three years and decide who the next Mayor, councilors, and trustees are. Trustees are people who are on the school board and make decisions on school related stuff.

Provincial Government-These are the people who run your province. Provincial elections occur about every 4-5 years, the head honcho is the premier. Ours, at the moment, is Ed Stelmach. Below the premier are the MLA’s, or Members of the Legistlative Assembly who represent a section of the province.

Federal Government-These people run the country, they decide pretty much everything. They are so large that they have departments that they appoint control over (e.i the Department of Oceans and Fisheries deal with, well, oceans and fisheries). They decide how much funding each Province receives and even whether we go to war, or whatever the Canadian equivalent to war is.

Democracy-Canada is a democracy. We are free to choose whom we appoint to the three levels of government, the process of us choosing our government is called voting. Voting is usually held within 10 or so blocks of where we live at a school or community hall. We have to be 18 or older to vote.

Voting-This is something that all Canadians, over the age of 18, have the right to do. It is a powerful way to show the government who we want to represent us, to be our advocates when it comes to decide the direction our country will go. We vote for MP’s, or Members of Parliament. Each MP belongs to a political party, such as the Tories (Conservatives), Liberal, New Democratic Party, the Green Party and so on. The important thing is that we mark the ballot with an X, and an X only.

What determines which party is in power you ask?

The House of Commons is where all the politicians banter to each other. The power of a political party lies in the House of Commons and how many seats each party holds. There are 308 seats in the House of Commons, one seat per riding in Canada so the more seats a party gains control of, the more power that party has to make decisions “for the people”.

Minority Governments occur when a single party is elected to 154 seats or less. They can’t make decisions without the consent of the rest of the seat’s approval but it’s the minority government that is in charge. Canada, for the last couple of elections, has had a minority government headed by the Conservatives. Minority governments must work hard to maintain their power lest they lose confidence of the rest of the leaders. In that case, the minority government loses control and another election is held. The minority party is still in power, but they are at threat of losing that power pending the election.

Majority Governments occur when a single party is elected to more than half the seats of the House. They are free to pass legislations and are better able to hold the confidence of the rest of the leaders than a minority government.

Opposition party is a term that describes the political party that not in power but is still elected to the House. Their role is to oppose government in power, criticize their decisions, offer alternative methods, and to inform us of what is happening in government.

Coalition Governments occur when there is a minority government that loses confidence of their peers. The opposition party’s band together to form one party and threaten to take power. Often, when a minority government is in place, their opposition has the potential to be a majority government if they were one party.

The Major Political Parties of Canada

The Conservative Party of Canada headed by Stephan Harper is currently in power but has lost confidence of their peers. http://www.conservative.ca/party/founding_principles/

The Liberal Party of Canada is headed by Michael Ignatieff and is the official opposition party and are vying to be elected back into power in the upcoming election. http://www.liberal.ca/party/history/

The New Democratic Party is headed by Jack Layton and is the official opposition part and are vying to be elected into power in the upcoming election. http://www.ndp.ca/

The Bloc Quebecois is headed by Gilles Duceppe and is the official opposition party and are vying to be elected to power in the upcoming election. http://www.blocquebecois.org/accueil.aspx

There are many other political parties that hope to make it into parliament but are not represented on the ballot come election day. These include, in alphabetical order, Animal Alliance Environmental Voters Party of Canada, Canadian Action Party, Christian Heritage Party of Canada, Communist Party of Canada, First Peoples National Party of Canada, Green Party of Canada, Libertarian Party of Canada,  Marijuana Party, Marxist-Leninist Party of Canada, People’s Political Power Party of Canada, Pirate Party of Canada, Progressive Canadian Party, Rhinoceros Party, United Party of Canada, and the Western Block Party. For more information on any of these parties, go to http://www.elections.ca/content.aspx?section=pol&dir=par&document=index&lang=e

So I hope that politics are a little less confusing with this blog, and I hope to see you all at the polls on MAY 2^nd 2011!

A sort-of blog, but not really

Here is the two page essay I wrote for Philosophy called "I am not a Worthless Peon":

Capitalism. My society is based on it. The government claims that there is no class system in Canada, but our class system is the most salient aspect of our society; especially for those of us in the lower classes. Sociologists describe my society as a pyramid, with a small percentage of people, the ones with the most money, property, and prestige, at the top. These are the executives, the Chief Executive Officers of the major banks and oil companies. And, for some odd reason, the ones who get the most tax breaks from the government are found at the top of the pyramid.

Mid-way down we find the middle class, these are the people who are not executives, but are managers, business owners, and entrepreneurs. Not as many tax breaks, but a lot of other freedoms such as yearly vacations, hefty retirement packages, and annual raises.

Then, at the very bottom of the money pile, we have the lower class. Some people refer to these people as crabs in a bucket, when one crab is just about to escape the confines of the glass ceiling; all the other crabs pull them back into the fray. Those of us in the lower class are forced to feed off whatever money trickles through the crack in the ceiling, or floor however you want to look at it. Among us are welfare recipients, laborers, admin assistants, office workers stuck in a cubicle, and post secondary students!

And just to make some feel better, a class in the upper echelons of the lower class was formed; in which, teachers, small business owners, and blue-collar workers are all vying for that little kick that would push them through the glass ceiling and into middle class society. I am on the bottom of the pile. A crab forced to survive off what little makes its way to my microcosm after being filtered through the rest of the food chain. But I am not a victim of circumstance; my position in society is not my fate. As a post secondary student I feel I have the wits to dodge the pincers of those crabs around me, and I have the strength to break the glass that hangs over head to truly be free from the life I’ve lived for, well, my whole life. I took it upon myself to take the necessary steps to make a better life for my family and me. There wasn’t anyone who pushed me to do it. I was proactive. After all, the last thing those in the upper classes want to see is a crab tarnishing their Alpaca covered floor!

And now that I stand on the cusp of breaking free from my previous life, and exploding onto the scene of my newly convocated life, I have been charged with proving that I am not a worthless peon, a drone meant only to make the rich richer, and the powerful more powerful. I am not a worthless peon who’s destiny it is to only enrich other people’s lives. As a post-secondary student, my peers and I are not leaving it up to others to determine the trajectory of our lives. We have a target and we’re aiming for it. One aspect that you might argue is that most of us, myself included, are living off student loans which come from the government, and, therefore, is still crab food. To that I say we pay it back. Every single penny, or soon to be nickel (they are considering abolishing the penny because it takes more than a penny to make a penny), plus more, will be given back. Restorative justice. We give it back because it wouldn’t be fair to all the other crabs who take their lives into their own pincers. In short, I am not a worthless peon because I am proactive.

A Simple X goes a long way

This blog is going to focus on something that Canadian youth have reported time and time again to be boring and uninteresting. And can I really disagree? Watching a bunch of old guys sitting in a chair talking to some other old guy sitting in a bigger chair is hardly entertaining! But that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about…I’m here to talk about putting a simple X on a paper, I’m here to talk about taking half an hour out of your day to set the political ship’s course for the next term in office.

Canada’s political arena has largely been shaped by its older generations due to the disinterest of Canada’s youth. In 2001, there was 10.6 million youth who are at voting age and, although that puts us at a minority level as compared to the 22.5 million other Canadians, when it comes to voting, 10.6 million votes can make a large difference!

Such is not the case. According to the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance, In Canada’s 2000 election, only 25% of us, the youth, voted in the Federal election and those who did not vote remain uninvolved in the political system today and will remain in the periphery of politics when they grow older.

In the same study, the IIDEA found that youth voting is down around the world. In 2000, 36% of voting aged youth participated in the US presidential election, low numbers due possibly to Dubya Bush being a candidate. While the same year, the UK attributed their lack of voter turn out to the absence of their youth population.

In 2003 Elections Canada published: Explaining the Turnout Decline in Canadian Federal Elections: A New Survey of Non-voters. What they found is that, among the 18-29 age group 58.4% were “just not interested”, 46.4% didn’t like any of the eligible parties or candidates and 33.8% thought their vote wouldn’t matter! I wonder if they would maintain that same attitude if they knew there is 10.6 million other young people who could vote and actually make a change in politics?

But enough with stats.

I vote in all the elections. I can’t really tell you why I do, I guess it’s because I can. In all the elections that I’ve participated in, not once has the candidate I voted for made it to office but that doesn’t discourage me. I know I at least counted myself in and I have the right to complain about it! By not voting you lose that right to complain because you didn’t have your voice heard. And believe me, when it comes to votes, politicians will listen! They may not HEAR you, but they will LISTEN!

Understandably, bills, legislation, cabinet ministers, convoluted campaign speeches and debates and even the Prime Minister are aversive stimuli. Throw in prorogation, redundant coalitions and immigrant party leaders, and Canada has successfully lost the attention of youth coast to coast to coast.

In the past election, I decided to ask each party how, as a mid-twenties, Aboriginal post secondary student living off reserve, their party would best represent me. Not one of them answered me directly or at all. The conservatives and liberals neglected to call me back, and the NDP replied with a “if you refer to our website, we believe that will answer all your questions.”

Now, you might be asking yourself, “how is all this negative stuff supposed to persuade me to vote in the next election?” I can tell you right now, that voting is our free choice. We don’t have to wait for conflict to dictate to us whether we vote or not. We don’t live in China or any other communist regime where our voice does not matter. We don’t have to worry about whether or not we die on our way to vote.

Take Iraq for example: On March 7^th 2010, the Iraqi people were finally allowed to vote. Insurgents, looking to disrupt the democratic process, killed 38 people who were on their way to cast their vote. 80 more were wounded in attacks that begun even before polls opened. 38 people gave their life for their one vote. At the end of the day, fear gave way to defiance and many people walked away from polling stations with purple fingers, a sign that they had cast their vote. Among them, a young girl dipped her finger in the purple ink despite not being old enough to vote. She was proud that her people finally had a voice.

Nelson Mandela was the first South African President to be elected in a fully representative democratic election. Before that he helped lead the African National Congress as a political entity that defied the strong hold that apartheid had on South Africa’s politics.

The ANC used non-violent means in their anti-apartheid stand but after an event called the Sharpeville Massacre, the ANC joined the conflict with a violent stand against the Afrikaans, the party responsible for implementing apartheid. Members of the ANC were found guilty to charges equal to treason. Mandela spent 18 years imprisoned on Robben Island and just under 15 years fighting for democracy prior to that. More than 30 years of Mandela's life were spent fighting for the one moment of time it took for him to cast his vote.

People literally crawled out of hospital beds and left their squatter shacks and camped overnight in voter line-ups so they can take part in South Africa’s first election in decades. And like Iraq’s recent election, insurgents aiming to sabotage the South African election killed 21 people and wounded150 more in the 2 days leading up to Election Day. Even more people giving their life for something that we find uninteresting…

Nelson Mandela once said: “your playing small does not serve the world”, voting to us is a small act so in this context I disagree with him. One vote does matter.

On November 4^th 2008, The United States made history with the election of their first Black President: Barack Obama. In the election that would see Obama as the 44^th president, a record high of 18-29 year olds came out to participate: 42.5% of males and 50.3% of females voted in the election. The total population of 18-29 year olds in the US is 29.6 million. Average the percentage of males and females who voted and we get 13.7 million voters, that’s more than the total population of the same age group in Canada. Yes, American youth are doing better than us when it comes to voting. If that’s not reason enough to go and vote, I don’t know what is!

So what about Canadian politics? What can we do to make it more interesting?

Firstly, we need our politicians to listen to us. We need to call our MP’s and ask them what they can do for us, and I’m not speaking about one or two of us. I’m talking about flooding their office and phone lines with  Canadian youth. If we show them that we are interested in politics, perhaps our interests will show up on their election platforms, perhaps they will have the time to tell us why we should vote for them.

If we all show up on their radar then they will have no other choice but to listen. I recommend not waiting until election time like I did, they tend to be busy looking for votes during elections and have no time to do what they are supposed to be doing.

Secondly, we need to pass on the word on how valuable voting is to other youth. Old people telling youth to vote is as ineffective as ineffective as George W. Bush was at his job. Youth telling youth, however, speaks volumes to Canada’s young population and is more effective due to positive peer pressure.

In closing, I just want to reiterate that we don’t have to give our life to cast our vote and we don’t have to sit in a prison cell to make our point that we have the right to vote. In Canada, voting is every person’s right to do much like free speech or following the religion of our choice. I need you, those who do not vote, to ask yourself: “would hurt me to vote?” and to those of you who do vote: you are doing a very simple act and are doing your country a very good thing so keep it up! 

Nicola Valley Leaders of Tomorrow Keynote

Nicola Valley Leaders of Tomorrow Conference

Acknowledge the land, ancestors, and Elders of the land.

I’d like to thank:

The youth

without all of you, this conference would not be possible! This community is here because of you, they are interested in what you have to say, and they hope that you bring the teachings you learned here with you where ever you go. It’s like when you smudge with sweet grass or sage, when you’re done you bring the medicine with you on your clothes and in your hair, really it becomes a part of who you are.

To all of the organizers of this conference

haawa’a for all your time, time is well spent when investing in youth. Your time ensures we have the best resources available to us to make the next right choice. Your interest in these youth show them that you care about their well-being, and that’s all a youth really ever needs, to know they are supported through all their right and wrong decisions by the people they love.

To all the Elders of the Nicola Valley

You are truly the most valuable resource to us young people, the knowledge and wisdom you carry does transfer to us like electricity through a wire, even when we don’t think it is. I’ve witnessed young people caught up in gangs, drugs, and alcohol, but as I struggle with getting my baby, and her stroller through a doorway, a lot of times it is they who hold the door for me. I picture an Elder somewhere teaching a child about respect only for that child to become lost in street life. But that teaching remains. Haawa’a.

To the people of the Nicola Valley Nations

Haawa’a to all of you for ensuring that the youth of your community have an understanding of the adversity they will face on their journey. Hawaa’a for arming them with the tools they will need to overcome those adversities. Hawaa’a for  making sure that your young people are made to feel valued, and cared for.

The Speech

My name is Damian Leo Mathias Abrahams. My first name comes from a little boy in New York who sung my mother a song and read her a poem he’d written earlier that day. My tsiini Leo is where I got my first middle name. He’s an old Irish fisherman who, at close to 90 years old, is still fiercely independent. Mathias Abrahams and his wife Leila were my best friends in the whole world when I was growing up. They were my great grand parents. They were my naani and tsiini.

I tell you all this because this is who I am; I am my family. Everything they did caused me to be standing here in front of all of you today. My naani and tsiini worked hard so the children, I was not the only one, around them would live comfortably. When times were hard they made great sacrifices to make sure the kids would eat. One time my naani choose a bag of oranges over a pack of cigarettes so her grandchildren could have something nutritious to eat. She never bought another pack after that. As I look at the cursor blinking steadily on my computer screen, I wonder why I’m telling you about my great-grand parents.

Family are the most important people in your life, they are your support, they have been charged with the responsibility to protect you, nurture you, laugh with you, cry with you, be with you no matter what. There was a time when my family, aside from my naani and tsiini, didn’t do this for me. I was betrayed and abandoned by a family that was in the next room guzzling the next bottle of booze. My family was the worst kind: They were drunken indians. We tried to be normal, we moved to an uppity neighborhood in Port Moody where the other kids would tease me, calling me “stupid little Indian”. The other kids often asked me if my family and I were from India and why we came to Canada.

In my silence I wondered what they meant by that. I was born in Vancouver in 1981, shortly after that we moved to Haida Gwaii. At the age of two, my alcoholic mother lost me to the BC government. My experiences in the foster system weren’t as bad as some of the stories I’ve heard. I wasn’t beaten or molested. Religion, though, was pushed on me. I was told that I would burn in fire and brimstone just for being me.  As I hopped from one foster home to the next, I started feeling rejected. I didn’t know why my mom wasn’t there for me, and I wondered if she ever would. None of my foster parents showed me any sort of affection and I had no emotional bonds with anyone. The times that I was with my mom, she was still drinking. When I was 16 I went to my last foster home. It was there that I turned to drugs and alcohol through the influence of my foster brother Andrew.

When they say that marijuana is the gateway drug, I’m pretty sure it’s true. When I turned 18 I was a grown-up in the eyes of the government, free to make my own choices. Weed turned to acid, acid turned to shrooms, shrooms turned to exstacy, exstacy turned to coke, coke turned to crack, and crack turned to Crystal Meth.

My journey on Crystal Meth was terrible. It brought me to the streets begging for money, it brought me to the streets to find a place to rest my head. My whole world was consumed by Meth. I spent my time either doing a hit, or getting the next hit ready, hours turned to minutes, minutes turned to seconds. 5 years I was on meth, it only felt like 5 months. All of the sudden I was in Edmonton, 144 pounds, lost and confused.

I came to Edmonton to start my life anew. I started helping out at sweatlodges, pipe ceremonies, I started dancing the Sundance. I went from street culture to the our culture and it helped me feel good about myself, I felt included when I walked into the arbour at the Sundance and someone made room for me to sit. I felt the power of the ceremony at the end when all the dancers came together for the first time since the ceremony began and for the first time in my life I was overwhelmed by the positive rather than the negative.

TELL THE STORY FROM YOUR FIRST NIGHT’S DREAM

From that first experience of our culture, I knew that was the road I wanted to travel. I began to explore Cree culture and Haida culture. I learned a lot from my gaagi, my uncle, Frank. I learned Haida songs with him 15 years ago with my skaan, my Aunty Roberta. We all huddled around a tape deck listening to one of our relatives sing. We’d play 10 or so seconds of a song, pause it, sing it ourselves, and rewind it to make sure we got the words right. I was so happy that my gaagi and I were singing Haida songs again because while on meth not one verse passed through my lips.

As I explored my people’s songs and dances, I slowly learned who I was. I wasn’t that stupid little Indian from India anymore. I am Haida, I am strong, I am smart, I am handsome! I learned through the performances that my gaagi and I did that I have a voice that people will listen to. My culture is also who I am.

I learned a lot from listening to the Elders at the Sundance, and I carry those teachings with me wherever I go. One of the most important teachings they gave me was about the Buffalo. They told me that in the old days, the Buffalo would provide their community with absolutely everything it needed. The meat would feed everyone, the bones gave them the tools they needed to survive, the hide clothed and sheltered them, and even the skull would give them ceremony. The Buffalo was very important to them. The Elders told me that today, my Buffalo is Education. Education will feed me. Education will give me the tools I need to live. Education will clothe me and shelter me. Education will strengthen me, my family, and my community.

So I went to school, graduated high school, and enrolled in university and am now 3 credits away from my first degree. That will be something that no one can take away from me, it represents my hard work over the past four years, it represents the hard work of our ancestors ensuring that education is a part of the agreements with the government. My education is also who I am.

TALK ABOUT KHAILA AND ALL HER LESSONS!

CONCLUSION

You might have noticed that all I really talked about today is my failures and my accomplishments. I use my story not be high on myself, but it’s really the only way I know how to show people that any adversity can be over come. I stopped trying to prevent failure and worked on failing better because I recognized that failure is bound to happen and that if I learn from failure it’s not really a failure at all. Because of that ability people began seeing me as a leader, I always moved forward with my life.

In March 2009 I was recognized on a provincial level by the Alberta Aboriginal Youth Achievement Awards and in July of the same year I was selected to be a part of the Lead Your Way! National Aboriginal Role Model Program where I travel to communities to give talks about drugs, education, and the Haida culture. As a National Aboriginal Role Model, I’ve been honored to witness what being an Aboriginal youth means. In all the communities I’ve been to, I often wondered why they needed to request a role model because they have so many youth that are doing amazing things for their community already, just as I’ve seen here today. From all the experiences I had during my travels, I concluded that youth aren’t the leaders of tomorrow, we are the leaders of today!

HAAWA’A!

Beware...of the truth...

I did a lot of work on myself over the last 5 years or so. The only way I can effectively say it is it's like I went through a storm and my boat got really messed up. The only way that I was able to successfully fix my boat was to go back through the storm again. The past had to be re-visited and in my mind I had to be there again and instead of running away from them, I was forced to go see it through  to the end.

My emotional issues, feeling shitty about myself, learning not to cry when I'm sad or laugh when I'm happy (Don't cry or I'll give you something to cry about; what do you have to be happy about?) was pretty hard to unlearn. The hardest part was to identify my emotions. Knowing what parts of my body did what during different emotions helped. When I'm angry my ears get warm and my chest flutters and then get tight. My brain tickles and I feel like exploding with laughter when I'm really happy.

My mentality was quite possibly the hardest aspect to work on. I believed I was worthless, that I was a stupid little indian, and that I wouldn't amount to anything. There was no hope for me. But it was all a matter of perspective, I chose to look at all the negative rather than all the good stuff. I failed to see the forest through all the trees. It wasn't any one thing that helped me through these issues, one exercise that helped was this guy held up a $50 dollar bill and asked who wanted it, all of us of course! He then crumpled it up and asked again, we all still wanted it. He threw it on the ground and stomped on it. We still wanted it. Then he tore it in half and asked if we still wanted it. Yes we did. He then listed all the stuff he did to the $50 dollar bill and asked why we still wanted it even though he "dragged it through hell." We said that it's still $50 and we could repair it. Exactly, he says, it still has value, just like all of you. No matter what is done to you, you still are human, and you still have value.

My sexual issues were address simply by taking back the power my abuser had over me. When he took my innocence so many years ago, he held a power over me. He used fear to keep it. I wrote a letter to him, a letter which was very hard to write. In it I said his name, I told him that enough is enough, you have no power over me and it was time for me to move on. In addition to that letter I did some inner child work. My counsellor had us picture in our minds a photo of us as a child. I pictured one of when I was about 2-3 years old. I was on the back of a couch with my head turned to the left. My great-grandfather was sitting on the couch in front of me. We were asked to animate that picture, so in my mind, the little boy in the picture turned his head and looked at me and jumped down onto the floor. He came running up to me and gave me a big hug. I told him that "everything is okay now, I'll take care of you now."The main symptom of physical abuse is powerlessness. Never being able to be good enough. I remember some of the dreams I had back then were when I had to run for some reason and I was never able to run fast enough. Simply being able to make my own decisions and live with the consequences and to take leadership positions empowered me, it gave me a voice which I use today.

Financial abuse...that one is on going. Not having enough money, or being forces to spend the money I did have, or having the money I did have be controlled by someone else, foster parents etc..., it was hard to understand money for what it is. So when I did get some money I had to spend it fast before someone else took it. Today I'm understanding that I have spend it one important things, bills, rent, groceries, FIRST, before anything else.Spiritual abuse, forcing one's own beliefs on another, is intergenerational. Starting with rez schools. It was hard to overcome those issues but just immersing myself in Aboriginal culture worked those issues out easily. Singing Haida songs and dancing Haida dances with my uncle solidified my beliefs and gave me direction.

Stats

I've decided to make my first blog about an enemy of mine. This enemy is a common enemy among psych majors. My enemy beat me three times before I won. Without a doubt, if you're a psych major, the first thing that comes to your mind is statistics. I first came across stats in my second year of studies, a friend of mine advised me that I should take sociology stats (SOC210) as they are a lot easier than psych stats (PSY211). I've never been keen at math, I struggled through Jr. High, and Sr. level math. In UCEP program I withdrew from my math class when I was sitting at 40% with 3 weeks of classes left!


You can imagine my dismay when I found out that I cannot graduate without stats. Figures. So my first attempt at stats didn't go so well, I blame my prof. She doesn't speak English very well, and she zoomed through all the topics and she didn't leave any room to ask questions. I hated it during the exam, I stared at the problems without a clue what to do. FUCK! Often times I just wanted to get up and leave and never come back, I hate feeling dumb. I kept on thinking what the point is, I never planned on being a researcher, which is what stats, or should I say that's what parameters, are used for. My first fail.


The second time around I was set, I knew the material and I knew what to expect. I was going to pass. Turns out I didn't know, I still couldn't grasp the material and I couldn't quite put my finger on the prof's accept. I think he's Sri Lankan or something. He too zoomed through the course material, so that, coupled with his accent, made it hard for me to get through the course. It didn't help that the first class he told us that 80% of us will fail the course. That same blank stare came back during the exams, I recognized nominal, ordinal, interval, and ratio scales, I could navigate SPSS moderately well, I could read the statistics language (understanding it was another matter), but that was it. My second fail.


The third time around was psych stats. I bit the bullet because I figured I was a psych major, I should have psych stats. My prof was Canadian and he spoke English clearly and humorously, he presented the material in a way that was memorable and I actually liked going to class! By now I could recognize most of the material on the exams and my stares weren't so blank, but my prof was clever with his questions. He keenly chose things that I wasn't so good at. But I'm not blaming him for my inability to get the material, I spoke to a learning analyst and he told me that I was jumping into the middle of a lake without first knowing how to swim, that made perfect sense. By the second exam I was at 48% and it would've taken a miracle for me to pass the course. Mathematically I needed 80% on each item on the syllabus to pass. My third fail.


Psych stats was harder, we had to learn about linear regression, ANOVA, Multiple linear regression, plus we needed to write an APA paper. My fourth and final time (Pass or fail) at stats was with the author of the stats textbook. I was determined to pass this class, I armed myself with the advice given to me by the learning analyst, I recruited a tutor who, as it turns out, help write the stats text, and I had a classmate that I could compete with throughout the semester. Things were going well into the first exam, not so well at the second exam, and I bombed the third exam. My prof was cheering me on, my tutor was basically holding my hand the whole way through. After the third exam I just wanted to give up again, I needed a miracle again. I couldn't withdraw, I needed to maintain my student loan. I prayed to my late naani for help, I prayed to everybody! Everyday that I walked up to campus I imagined my naani walking with me, I pictured all my ancestors walking with me. I just did my best for the rest of the class.


On the morning of the final exam I decided that I wasn't going to go. There was no point. As I laid in bed something literally pushed me out of bed, it was like I didn't have a choice in the matter. I walked into the exam room, pen and cue card in hand, and nothing else mattered, even my love for my baby and little family at home. It was really just me and the exam. No blank stares, I knew the material, it was just a matter of time. The big thing for me was chose the appropriate test. We were given a scenario and we had to chose the right test based on the info we were given. On my cue card I had written a flow chart that described what variables go with what tests. Every time I was using the flow chart, "follow the yellow-brick road, just follow the yellow-brick road" ran through my head. I did very well on the paper, I never kept track of my grades on my labs, and I needed at least 50% on the final exam to pass the course. But I needed more than 50% to compensate for my past failures


I left the exam and everything came flooding back into my conscience again. All my worries, my fear of this class preventing me from grad. I went home and rested in the fact that I had tried and I did my best. At 5pm that day I received an email from my prof:


Prof: you got 67% on the final exam
so if your lab mark is really great- you will almost make 60% for a C-

we will see what we will see


Me: SERIOUS??!! I'm CROSSING MY EVERYTHING!


Prof:I claim the discretion to up a student's grade if he or she has shown great improvement over the term


Me:Let's hope I've improved enough!!! It would be thanks to the tutor
Me:I'm cleaning my floor in hopes to up my karma points! Seems silly...


Prof:Seems to have worked out for you-floor cleaning:)

CONGRATULATIONS DAMIAN - YOU MADE IT ON YOUR OWN- You ended the course with 60.4% and you earned your C-

I can tell you that it gives me great pleasure to see you achieve this. I would have bumped you up if you were close but I did not have to do that.

WHOOOOOOO HHAAAAAAAA WALLA WALL

GOOD FOR YOU

Whenever the Chicago Blackhawks score, a song called Chelsea Dagger plays. That was the song that was playing when I read that last message, I was hootin and hollerin, I was dancing and singing, my heart was the most happy it'd ever been since my baby was born!

I'm in intermediate stats now (PSY319) and things are so much better. It's the calm after the storm and we just completed our first real-world study and wrote our paper, and did an oral presentation. As it stands, I'm sitting at a B. Oh yeah, stats aren't so bad now that I look back!

Don't tell any Canucks fans that I listen to Chelsea Dagger by the way.