This has some flaws but bear with me.. You ask academically and creatively gifted children at age 12 what they want to be in life. Whatever they say, you try to nurture that and make it happen, only educating them in the things they need to make it in their chosen profession. There would be a much higher emphasis on individuality, and also a higher level of practical training, helping these children to excel in their chosen fields.. I realize this is Elitism, but surely Elitism of talent is better than Elitism of wealth..

A 23 year-old Brazilian girl is having a BBQ.  She works two jobs, one as a nanny for a family in the suburbs, and they are throwing a celebration because she has just received her permanent residency status.  From a poor background, offering little opportunity for education or much else, she has worked her way into Canada at great personal sacrifice, and promises to accomplish much.  There is a speech, and she tears up, and in her face I see a tough past and promising future.  This is Canada.



Auschwitz, Poland, 1942.  Condemned prisoners arrive by cattle car carrying the few belongings they haven’t sold for their survival.  Immediately, their bags and battered suitcases are confiscated.  Family heirlooms, wedding rings, and anything of value ******** away, replaced with a striped uniform and numbered tattoo.  The goods are transported to a large warehouse on site, which fills up so quickly another is needed.  To the prisoners, these warehouses represent a wealth of material treasure, cherished memories, and most importantly, hope.  They give the warehouses a nickname.  They call them Canada. 



In May 2004, I was sworn in as a Canadian citizen.  The day before, a car had run me down at a Vancouver intersection, breaking my knee and setting me on the path to travel journalism.  I popped a small pill of morphine before I settled in the front row of the courthouse, my leg heavily strapped up.   Missing the ceremony would delay the process, and after five years I had waited enough.  My older brother immigrated to Vancouver without once having stepped foot in Canada.   I followed him 18 months later in the same manner.   What made me leave everything I know behind on the other side of the world (South Africa is literally the opposite side of the globe) to start fresh?  Very simply, the answer is Canada.



For all the negative news you might read in the newspapers, for all the economic challenges we face, the rising crime, reports of corruption, environmental disaster, it pays to put things in perspective.  I moved here, along with so many others, because Canada offers a better life.  By my reasoning and research, the best life I could hope to find.   I didn’t need UN reports and various research indexes to tell me that the quality of life in Canada is amongst the best in the world.  It would take me a year before I could find a good job.  Longer still to reestablish the kind of friendships I had lost.  Through it all, I felt safe, I felt welcomed, and I felt that anything is possible because the opportunity exists.   Ten years later I have a successful career, a TV show no less that pays me to travel the world; my dream job.  This is Canada.



My first love letter lightheartedly identified modern icons of Canada, from yoga-stretching hippies on the West Coast to foot-thumping lobster chompers in the Maritimes.  We have wolves and cougars and bears and moose, but our national animal is the beaver: industrious, capable, a bucktooth smile for teamwork.  We embrace the outdoors, the big prairie sky, the Albertan Rockies, the Quebecois’ providing tenacious unity in diversity.    Sports, science, comedians, writers – for a relatively small nation, we have had a relatively large impact on the world, even if sometimes we feel they don’t exactly notice.      



My second love letter is a lot more personal.  I love that I can drive on a highway for days, meeting friendly people along the way, chewing on eye candy throughout. I love that it’s safe, that politicians are called to task, that our much criticized medical system helps me every time I’m sick.  I love conversations with immigrant taxi drivers and nurses and dock workers and computer scientists who work hard and have made great sacrifices to be here.   I love drinking tap water. I love the efficiency of our transport system, the police, the phones, the Internet.  I love that our Canadian teams are always the underdog.  I love our beer and wine and fresh seafood and healthy beef.  You can criticize everything I love, and sure there’s room for improvement, but compared to just about any other country on the planet, things could not get any better.  And that, in the end, is Canada.



Happy Canada Day.

 

 Hows this fetishesofallkinds? This is writing from a HUMAN'S perspective.  This is Canada.

We have only ever spent four hours together. It has been weeks already, but I can’t get over you. 



I get it all. I am married now; we don’t live in the same city; and we may never meet again. Of course we have no future, any idiot would understand the logic. As much as I want to speak to you, I can’t. I will only do you harm. Our lives were like two parallel lines that accidentally intercepted, and now they are back on track again. It was an accident, but not a mistake.



I always thought that after I got married, no one else could make me fall in love again. Even when I meet charming people, I never cared. This time is different. You have made a profound impact even in a few short hours. You surprised me. I have no idea why I am stuck on you, but I am. I know what I have to do though – I have to get over you. Memory is a physical thing, time will fade it. I know that at some point I will stop missing you, and the pain will go away. I am patiently waiting for that day to come.



I never had a chance to tell you… I regret nothing. I really do appreciate you. I know you gave me your all that night, and I am sorry I could not do the same. I will never forget you. I hope you are happy wherever you are.

 

Both my parents commited suicide at different times in my life my dad when I was 9 and my mom when I was 24.  My father was 27 when he died and my mother was 49. 

The last thing I said to my mother was that I never wanted to talk to her again maybe 2 years before she died and I never did.  There were circumstances around that statement but I dont care to go into them now.   She still wrote me and even when she got sober and wanted to give me her 1 year pin I would not talk to her.  She even gave me the number of her case worker to prove that she was clean and doing well.  I just couldnt let it go, now I feel like I may never be able too.  We had been so close up until I was 22.  I know it must have hurt her like hell and I was hurting myself but im stubborn and felt I was justified.  Its my own fault that I didnt get to speak to my mother before she died and it hurts everyday.  She lived in another state at the time of her death and I didnt even go out there.  I regret that too, I dont know why I didnt.  I was in shock and couldnt deal with my biological grandmother whose first words to me on the phone were "im not paying for the funeral".  My mother never got a funeral.  There was an autopsy and since I couldnt pay for a funeral, her ashes were eventually sent to me in a plain cardboard box via UPS.  The lack of dignity in the whole situation sticks to me like glue.  She deserved more, she deserved to not be alone in death and to have people celebrate her life.  In the end it was my two sisters, my best friend, and I  who spread her ashes across lake MI as per her wishes.  The day was freezing and snowing as we did it on her birthday which is in december.  

My father was in another state at the time of his death and though we spoke on the phone I hadnt seen him since I was maybe 3.  He and my mother divorced around that time.  His girlfriend at the time kept his ashes and I hate it. 

I miss them so much and I know I havent dealt with it.  I feel like pieces of me are missing, that they didnt teach me all I had to learn before they left this earth. I have constant anxiety and panic and im scared to be alone (which I usually am).  I think about dying just so I can be with them again and find myself wishing to die and even making my own attempts, the most recent last week. 

Working in a health care center with elderly people everyday, seems like it would make losing family members easier, but it doesn't.  Not at all.  In fact, it's almost worse.  After she's gone, I'll have to go back to work and be reminded of her daily.

And no matter how good or bad a person is, doesn't really matter when they're dying.  So, she was quite mental and made a lot of people miserable... but it's still hard to deal with the fact that she's dying.

------------------

Also, why must confessions have titles now??  Some don't need titles.  What if we don't want it to be "easier for others to find."  I couldn't care less who finds it, it's a confession.  It's supposed to make me feel better, it isn't for anyone to find.

I am completely curious with my neighbor. He is like a puzzle. One I would like to solve.

It annoys me how he speaks to me then abruptly stops.

Making friends is like diving into a box of Every Flavour Bean Box and not knowing what you'll find. Realizing this, I suck at making friends and I tend to lie a lot. I don't want anyone mad at me therefore making me one of those friends that people only pay attention to when they want something. other than that no one really cares. Depressing, eh?

I have a friend who is an alcoholic and so stupid.  She needs to stop.  I mean I am her friend but when I see she is tipsy or smells of alcohol I want to shy away and never have anything to do with her again.  Her family told her she needs help but she doesn't do anything.  We're not kids anymore.  We're in our 40's and it's time to grow up.  Gees, Her life isn't so bad.  Has it better than me and she had to drink.  She's pathetic too.  Complains that she's fat but doesn't do anything about it.  Drinking alcohol is full of calories and eating and sitting on your fat butt isn't going to burn them off. 

 I'm falling for you and I can't : /

I'll be a hypocrite if I do.

WHy are you so perfect?

I think I might have to stop being such good friends with you on EP

: (

people tell me to "Have faith in yourself!" Why? I'm a huge failure, why should I have "faith" in a failure? Or they ask, "Where is your self-confidence? You need to work on that!" Well, I know how to get more self confidence about as much as I know how to grow six inches taller overnight. Or "You worry too much!" Thanks... that statement just makes me worry about how much I worry. Lol....I'm just sick of cliche fix-it-all phrases. Are there any REAL tips on feeling better about yourself??