Okay, I have a lot of theories, and I try the patience of my long-suffering friends by expounding on them, often over whiskey (neat), sometimes while one or another of those long-suffering friends keeps me from plunging sideways into a bonfire or through a coffee table.  Even when generously marinated in Ireland’s finest, I exhibit perspicacity and blarney than amuses more often than it angers.  At least, that’s how I choose to  remember it in the clear light of day.  It is the only explanation for my continued rescue from the fate that awaits those who are unrestrained in both consumption of whiskey and expression of half-baked opinions, though perhaps I should give more credit to the kind natures and loving hearts of my friends.

But this is one pet theory I’ve cherished for almost a decade, and I think it’s ready for the slightly more public forum of the world wide web.  I’m not sure the world - and, in particular, Canadians - are ready for this; it’s controversial, it’s going to inflame strong opinions and, no doubt, passionate debate.  So, before I go on, I implore you to keep it civil in the comments.

My friends in the United States may not be aware of this, but in Canada, ‘north’ is a place the is completely subject to interpretation.  To some people, mostly Torontonians, I live in the north, even though I’m actually more eastish in relation to them.  To me, Sudbury and North Bay is the real, no-foolin’ north (it even says so in the name), and Thunder Bay has true northiness.  But what I rarely stop to consider (and I think my southern Ontario neighbours are with me on this one), is that most of Canada is north of all of the places I’ve named, and that actually none of them are even north of the 49th parallel.  Kapuskasing mocks the northiness of Thunder Bay, and Nunvavut sits secure in the knowledge of being the northest of us all.

So, to simplify; people think we’re all north in Canada, we think we’re all north, and everyone north of each of us thinks everyone south of them is the southiest.  Add to that the idea that being a southern Canadian is like having cooties forever, and then being a southern Ontarian is like cooties to the power of infinity.  We’re lame.  We’re not aware of how lame we are, but everyone else in Canada knows it like they know where you get a double-double and where you buy a two-four.

But the North, oh that mystical place of story and song, ski-doo and caribou; it gets into the blood of the Southerners that go there and sits as an ever-present longing to go back to the North.  I see the far-off look in the eyes of my friends, and I know they’re thinking about the North.  Their voices get soft and their expressions get dreamy.  And in my heart, I think I get it, how a country can be so alien to your experience and yet feel so much like home.

I’ve never been to the North, but I’m with them in spirit.  Except for one thing.

Moose.

For a long time, I didn’t believe in moose; I thought they were the emperor’s new clothes.  Yeah, I’ve met people who say they’ve seen moose (mostly musicians, and you know how they are).  Hell, I even been told I’m eating moose (tastiest figment of someone else’s imagination ever).  But for a long time I figured it was like the Blarney Stone; originally a joke played on the British oppressors by the subjugated Irish, it turned into a fine way to make a punt.  I thought that what the Blarney Stone was to the Irish, the moose was to Northerners; a wink and a nudge, and a bit of a laugh at the expense of gullible Southerners.  Yes, I’ve seen pictures, but I’ve also seen footage of the moon landing in 1969 and the Fiji mermaid.  And if that’s not enough to tell you that there are complex and nefarious conspiracies at work to manipulate us daily, then please remember that Keanu Reeves had an acting career.

After a time, I realized that this was bigger than just some fun at the expense of Southerners.  There are pictures everywhere.  The moose has become almost as recognizable a Canadian icon as the beaver.  Thousands of people claim to have seen moose majestically tramping across the northlands.  It didn’t take me too long to put two and two together - and when I did, I was more disturbed and unsettled than ever.  Since then, I’ve made it my mission to ensure that whenever the topic of the moose is broached, I try to make sure people know the truth.

So brace yourselves: moose aren’t animals.  They’re robots.  Developed in secret by CSIS, moose patrol our northern borders spying on the activities of the Russians, the USA, and any other unCanadian activities hovering around our northernmost border.

Think about it!  How perfect a defense system that masquerades as a relatively harmless mammal?  Who watches the moose?  Besides naturalists, I mean.  But look for yourselves - the way they move, almost too graceful.  The awkward construction of their bodies.  Those giants antlers!  Are there more perfect antennae to send and receive communications?  Did nature make an animal with a satellite dish on its head?  I think not.

But Candace, I hear you saying, moose have been around for thousands of years, they are in many parts of the world, and have been a part of indigenous cultures as food/clothing/etc.  Exactly!  Now you’re starting to grasp the scope of this vast Canadian Conspiracy!

You see, CSIS aren’t just some bumbling bunch of sweet Canadian semi-spies; they’re a dazzlingly powerful and surprisingly technologically advanced super-power, seamlessly controlling the fate of the world via time travelling moose robots.  When you begin to consider, the pieces of the puzzle fit together perfectly.  How is it possible that Canada, with its abundant natural resources and pot-smoking, free-loving socialist hippie health care has been allowed to stand relatively unmolested for so long?  You can see that over the past 200 years the United States have been eyeing up our true north strong and free like a frat boy gazing at a fresh keg.  How has a country with the world’s largest standing army held off on a second invasion?

I’ll tell you why: they’re afraid of our moose-robots.  Last time they crossed our borders with expansionist intentions, we whupped ‘em.  We burned the original White House down and pushed their troops back all the way to New Orleans.  If you don’t think the moose-robots played a part in that, you’re buying in to the Federalist agenda to deceive, inveigle and obfuscate.  Why else would such a great country appear so much on the national stage as a pack of buffoons or, at best, your pot-smoking middle brother who lives in your parent’s basement, breaking up family fights but otherwise kinda lounging?

It’s all a ruse; far from being one of the most peaceful nations on earth, Canada is in fact the puppetmaster.

Even Stephen Colbert, himself a high-ranking NSA official, paid homage to our mighty moose-robots recently during his time at the Vancouver Olympics.  Let me tell you, they’re scared, torn between fear and desire.  The look at our tasty fresh water, our rolling acres of pot and lumber, our beautiful gay weddings and our thrilling ice hockey and they want a piece of that action.  Who wouldn’t?  Only one thing is stopping them: only one thing is saving this country from invasion.  And so, while I disapprove of their secrecy, I have to tip my hat to the clever tactics of those CSIS super-spies.  Your average Canuck can sleep peacefully in his or her bed at night, kept safe by our sleepless patrols of robot moose.

Despite my healthy respect for the skill it’s taken to pull off this massive ruse, I’m still dedicated to the truth.  And now you know, friends: pass it on.  Don’t be duped.

I think those first few years I must have been a bit weird; assigned a drug with a name that implied it would work (Effexor - now with even more effex!), I found I’d traded one kind of miserable for another, though it was a more bearable misery.  I wished for a switch to flip, a miracle, a fixer.  I wished (oh, I still do) that they could find my depression and cut it out where it lies. We tried different drugs, different doses, and eventually I found that what really helped was Omega 3-6-9 capsules and exercise, and everything improved dramatically after that.

But lingering at the back of my mind is the fear that I’ll slip, or that the Omega’s effects will wear off and I’ll be back where I started or worse.  I’ve read the literature; Clinical Depression is theorized to essentially scar your brain, making it easy to fall back into the chasm you’ve hauled yourself out of.  I don’t mind being sad sometimes, but that unvarying sameness of depression isn’t sadness.  It’s hard to describe, but it’s not the same as being sad.  I look back at it with a horror that motivates me now to ensure I never go back there.

So I turned to a section of the bookstore heretofore ignored; the self-help section.  Ugh, I know.  I’ve read books on clearing your clutter with Feng Shui and the science of happiness; I’ve done The Artist’s Way thrice (differently useful each time).  I’ve read acres of text on a variety of  subjects, from recovering from mental blocks to overcoming addictions.  Because, much as Depression is a medical condition, it’s also a habit, an addiction, a way of living.  The familiar, comforting awfulness of depression is a security blanket - a certainty - where the world of overall happiness and possibility is a terrifying no-man’s land.  It’s the Devil I know; it’s the lover I can’t quite get over.

Reading Russell Brand’s My Booky Wook, I see that the techniques employed to overcome drug and sex addictions are the same techniques, differently framed, that I find in The Artist’s Way, which makes perfect sense. I also see that once he cleared up his issues and began seriously working on them and his addictions, his focus was freed up to work on success, and he achieved that in a relatively short time. Not that he hadn’t been having successes before that; you generally don’t get handed tv shows. But he’d always kinda been a fringe fuckup until he got himself in hand.

Positive thinking comes off as hocus-pocus and silliness, as does a lot of this self-help stuff, I know. But I think it’s often in the wording, and in the way the basic concepts are described. And also in the scorn of people whose half-attempts lead inevitably to failure; you can’t discount the contentedly miserable, and how much they try to ensure that other miserable people stay cosily with them.

Breaking addictions and habits, overcoming fears and blocks, often has to do with figuring out (without all the noise and obligations and sense of unworthiness and whatever other garbage you’ve got screaming around in your brain) what it is you want, and making plans to move forward in that direction.  And then going there.  And that’s positive thinking in a nutshell.  It’s not magic, it’s not some massive Secret.  It’s just that if you intend to do something, you’re much more likely to do it than if you put off thinking about the future and never really take steps to do anything in particular.  I can wish to win the lottery all day, but if I don’t go buy a ticket, I certainly won’t win.

I’ve dug up the foundations and poked around a fair amount, and now I know what the structure of my life rests on, where I can build safely and what needs to be stripped back down and rebuilt from scratch. So onwards to the ongoing, serious, simple work.

I’ve been playing Wii a fair amount over the past month; the games are interesting and fun and fairly encouraging, and the language of the movement is a challenge without being impossible. But the main focus of the games almost across the board is balance and posture, which I find interesting. It was also one of the first things we learned at theatre school; one of the few useful things I came away with. For years, I’d destroyed shoes and screwed up my joints because I walked on the outside of my feet, and our Movement teacher corrected me, and I practiced the hell out of that. Everyday, walking to and from school, I’d be working to correct my posture, walk on the three balance points of my feet. I think that’s why people get an impression of confidence from me; I still walk with good posture and control. But it took months, and a hundred thousand tiny shifts every day, until walking that way became habit.

My mind is the same as my posture; I tend to mentally walk the wrong way, see things in the worst light, avoiding making plans if the future seems too scary or uncertain or full of possibilities to contemplate. When I allow my mind to unbalance itself like that, focus too much on fear, it becomes unstable, bowed over, and next thing you know I’m crowd-sourcing bad advice and making panicky decisions and accepting overwhelming volunteer commitments. I fall off the path I ought to be walking, meander and flail all over the goddamn place, end up with very little progress once I finally find my way again. For all my hard work, I’m never much closer to my ultimate goals. But that’s starting to change. I’ve become much better at catching myself lately, and correcting my mental posture. Catching those dark, negative thoughts and renegotiating them; remapping the future with every tiny shift in thinking.

But again, it takes a hundred thousand tiny shifts every day, and constant vigilance, and sometimes when I’m tired or something bad happens I relapse and have to start all over again. But even though it often feels like I’m landing back at the beginning, in reality, I’m creating muscle memory; I’m learning how to stay focused, balanced, happy. It gets easier every day, and every failure is steps closer to success than the last failure.

I doubt I’ll ever get to a point where I don’t have to make corrections. But that’s expected; I’m human, and perfection is unattainable. Success is in the attempt, not the conclusion.

In the Christian church, suicide is generally considered a sin, but I think that the act itself is not the thing that is the sin. The real sin is despair; loss of hope, the end of attempting to succeed. I’m sure a Christian would say, the lack of faith in god, which is despair, but as a semi-pretty-much-non-believer, I’m going to say it’s the lack of faith that things can change and that you have the power to change them.

If you look around right now, we are living in an age where change is happening at great speed. I won’t say unprecedented speed; no student of history can say that word without irony, and I’m not sure I believe that there’s been a time when change wasn’t a constant. But we are living in an age of change, and we are very aware of it, and it is unstable and a little terrifying, if you’re inclined to look on it that way. And sometimes I do, and wonder what’s the point in say, going back to school, if nothing I learn will be relevant by the time I get out?

But the shift I make, when I starting talking to myself like that, is to see this as an exhilarating opportunity. I have maybe a good 40 years left in my life to play a part in the massive and wild changes that are happening around the world; changes in technology, in society, a brave new world. The longer I wait to jump in, the less time I have. If I was 80 today, it would still be the right time. If I was 10, it would be the right time. The right time is whatever time it is.

Things will happen, good and bad. Planes will fall from the sky, romances will flare and die, joints will ache and the weather will turn. That stuff’s all going to happen whether I’m happy or sad, passionately involved or fearfully crouching on the sidelines or wearily turning away from it all. The only things I have control over are my thoughts and actions, and they are mine, and I have faith I can change them; I know I can. I’ve done it a hundred thousand times.

Until recently, I’ve never been one for making resolutions, but I like a fresh start as much as the next person, and I’ve found that, as Emerson says, the world makes a path for the man who knows where he is going. So here are my goals for 2010.

Move out of Peterborough

Anyone who knows me well knows I’ve been in this city for too long; I would probably be happier some place where I neither cared nor had seen so much.   We’ve had good times, for sure: from the PCVS Integrated Arts Program, Cavan Blazers, Emergency 3, the Theatre Guild and The Tempest to the MoHo, the PAU, and the PFF, I’ve had nearly twenty years or arts-related triumphs and tribulations.  I’m looking for a fresh slate, something less comfortable and familiar, more challenging.

Keep Learning

Part and parcel of the desire for challenge is the desire to expand and develop my abilities; there are so many things I want to learn, including conversational French, banjo, Bhangra dance, and CSS.  I want to hone my Photoshop, video editing, ukulele, singing and acting skills.  I’m even thinking about going back to improv (pretty much the only facet of theatre I disliked).

Say ‘No’

No, I won’t work for free on a project I have nothing personally invested in; no, I won’t waste time flipping channels and watching programs I’m not interested in; no, I won’t allow other people’s issues to harsh my mellow; no, I won’t allow other priorities to coopt my projects; no, I won’t waste time with toxic people; no, I won’t volunteer for a major role in anything except my own life; no, I wont’ be content with what other people think I should be happy with.

Embrace Change

We’re living in a time of large, sweeping changes to things we think of as institutions, and it can be really overwhelming and intimidating.  I want to remember that whatever happens, I am best prepared if I ride change instead of fighting it.  We’re standing in the middle of brand new opportunities, things we’ve never seen before, and the potential for anyone with a creative mind to have great success.

Surround myself with people whom I admire

I’m actually pretty good at this already, but it bears repeating; the people in my life whom I love and admire are generally the people who most support my own goals and inspire me to reach further than I think I’m able.

Love Money

I know, we artists are supposed to be like, all about the art, man, and it’s wrong to love money, because money is the root of all evil.  But I get the impression a lot of that is bunk; I don’t have to love money more than I love, say, my ethics, but a little love for money could really change my life in positive ways.

Be Prepared

It was the slogan in Brownies, and it’s my slogan now; be ready, be on your toes, expect the best.  I know all that think-positive stuff sounds like silliness (I’ve got an article brewing about that, too), but I’ve missed opportunities that might have lead to incredible things because I wasn’t ready to move at the moment.  To be balanced and prepared is to be ready for opportunity, whenever it comes.

Have Regrets/Fail/Be less safe

I know that one of my favourite petite Frenchwoman sang non, je ne regrette rein, but for me, I think regret is inevitable and failure is a symptom of trying.  Neither of these are bad things, and if I put a lot of energy into trying to make sure I never fail and have no regrets, building a bubble of safety around my life, that’s energy I could be using to actually pursue my goals.  And I’m not talking about stupid stuff, like driving drunk or having loads of unprotected sex with strangers; I’m talking about taking artistic and personal risks, and finding ways to pursue my dreams even when I’m not entirely comfortable.

I’ll probably come up with more, but right now I’ve got to dash and catch a train; Happy New Year to you all!

So that was mid-October, and now I know one Christmas song all the way through, so I thought I’d share it with you.  I recorded it last night at about 2am, just as I was getting ready for bed after finishing up last-minute Ecksmassiness, and it took me about seven takes to get the lyrics right.

Anyway, enjoy, and I hope your morning has been as lovely as mine!

I had a number of very bad, stressful Christmases a few years ago; school, money, relationships, friends,  family issues, everything kind-of just piled on while I was in university, and I couldn’t seem to work my way out from under it to recapture the loveliness, the excitement, the sparkle that I used to always be able to access despite the inevitable garbage.  I was certainly snarky at Christmas’ expense during those years; I felt like it was a season that ought to be awesome, but whose loveliness was ruined by passive-aggressive guilt, personal tragedy, greed and people-related misery.  I’d consider moving to another country to avoid it all, or getting drunk around mid-December and staying well-and-truly blitzed until January 5 or so.  These options seemed pretty reasonable.

Slowly I’ve worked my way back to liking the season, though it took a long time.  I’m almost prepared to be the kind of person who says ‘I love Christmas!’
Perhaps without the exclamation point.
But the way I did it was by taking it back, and creating my own traditions that became somewhat inviolable; ‘tradition’ is a word that gives other people pause.  It’s harder when you’re a single person with no kids of your own, but even so, tradition is a buffer between me and the desires of other people.

Many years ago, a friend started calling it ‘Ecksmas’ - something I latched onto quickly as the appropriate name for my holiday, the kind of secular greenery-gifts-food-friends-family holiday that many people of my generation celebrate.  ‘Ecksmas’ is great - everyone knows what you’re talking about, and which traditions you’re probably into.  It implies nothing about your beliefs or your religion, though it usually speaks to the tradition you descend from. It gives a lot of information in one tidy little word.  And for me, Ecksmas is tremendously personal.

It embraces friends of many faiths, as well as those without particular faith -  we’re not celebrating the birth of a prophet in the middle east two thousand years ago; we’re celebrating the smell of pine and baking, the crisp cold air outside and the warmth and cosiness inside.  We’re celebrating getting together, and traditions which bring people in fellowship together in the physical world. We’re celebrating the birth of children, marriages, new ventures, and successes though they may have come at any time over the past year.  We’re comforting each other over losses and griefs, acknowledging the absences in the circle.  We’re celebrating a definition of family that has nothing to do with shared blood.

My own personal Ecksmas season starts at the time of year when the sun begins to set around 6pm.   The early dark and bright city lights always feels festive to me; more so if there’s snow, but I don’t need it to get into the spirit.  I listen to Christmas music - usually the old stuff, Bing Crosby, Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra.  Sam’s annual and much-anticipated Christmas CD arrives, and I cringe through some tracks (memorably the duet by Ozzy Osbourne and Jessica Simpson) and find new favourites.

I used to feel a huge weight of self-induced guilt over receiving Christmas cards and never sending any myself, so a few years ago I decided I was going to get over my endless procrastination and actually start sending them.  I’ve surprised myself by making this an annual Ecksmas tradition, and one which I really enjoy.   Last year I finally knuckled down and made myself a database with everyone’s mailing address, and printed labels with a holiday theme, which is sort-of nerdy, cheesy and Martha-y, all at once.  On the one hand, my Ecksmas cards probably impair my ability to appear cool in the eyes of my acquaintances, but on the other, I think people like getting them, and no one really thinks I’m all that cool anyway.

I do a lot of baking, which helps warm up the house and makes it smell wonderful.  It’’s hard to resist my Ginger Cookies or Snickerdoodles or Apple Pie fresh from the oven.  I know that advertising has given us all the impression that baking is hard, but I’m still always surprised (and gratified!) at the level of praise and glee that the prospect of home-baked goods inspires in people.  Seriously, go try one of those recipes (or some of the others I’ve posted, all of which are Shaw-kitchen tested), and then take the results to a gathering - unless you’re at the annual Cretans and Jerkfaces Christmas Party, people get very excited.  Also, it is good for the soul to bake things from scratch with your own hands.  No matter how busy I get, I always set aside at least a few hours here and there to set aside my other concerns and meditate over a warm oven.  And my Ecksmas week tradition of making croissants (from scratch! It’s easy!) to eat while we open presents is entering its third year; I hope not to burn them this year.

My sisters and mom and I traditionally cut our own live trees, a tradition that most people forgo in favour of a fake tree, which looks to me like another piece of junk you have to store all year in order to use it for a couple of weeks.  I love tramping through a field and arguing over the perfect tree, taking turns sawing it and then squabbling over whether or not it’s too tall as we haul it back to the car.  This year we tried a new place, Mackenzie’s Tree Farm near Indian River, and it was terrific - not a great tree selection, but we got a hayride, hot chocolate and doughnuts around a fire, we saw lots of friends there, and we came back with a tree that, as per tradition, has been declared the best tree we’ve ever had.  It may be ridiculously tall and possibly prone to leaning to one side in a way that seems a little dangerous, but we’re all very happy with it.

Of course there are always lots of parties and gatherings and live music at this time of year, but the two events I really look forward to are the weekend at my Aunt and Uncle’s place in Collingwood, and Sam’s Life Day Party.  Collingwood is a ski town, and last year we did a little downhill skiing for the first time as well as enjoying the outdoor hottub and fabulous food and hospitality at the Flynn’s with others from the Dowdall clan.  Sam’s Life Day party is always a blast - we put the Star Wars Christmas Special from 1979 on in the background and eat drink and get merry at the expense of Carrie Fisher, Harrison Ford, Mark Hamill, and the ghost of George Lucas’ dignity.  It’s always a good time.

It’s easy to get drowned in the obligations and expense that December seems to bring, but I try my best to carve out spaces for myself amongst the noise and bother, places where I can find hope and peace and joy amongst the people I love.  I’ve been pretty good at it the last couple of years, sailing (though sometimes on stormy seas, I’ll admit) through an Ecksmas of my own shaping, that sits a bit apart from the things other people would like me to do.  I know that there are a hundred obligations, traditions that have outlived their time, guilts and stresses that intensify and relationships that strain to the breaking point.  I still deal with a lot of that.  Sometimes, you have to put your foot down and perhaps even hurt a few feelings, bruise a few egos, in order to maintain a space for yourself in the midst of it all; I know I’ve had to.  The work is ongoing, probably life-long, to keep Ecksmas a time that I enjoy, mostly, instead of a time I dread and despair over.  But I promise you all, from someone who has often spent the entire month of December with teeth clenched in grim determination to survive the season without committing a felony, that it’s possible.  Probably.  I’m not talking stress-free blissful perfect happiness; that’s a silly, advertising-induced pipe dream.  Just a dialing-down, an added sweetness, a sense of perspective on what could be instead of what is.  Loving the best of the season, and trying to neutralize the worst.

So a very Merry Ecksmas from me and my family (and our cats!) to all of you; I hope that you find joy, and love, and happiness in moments around this season.

I have issues with the concept of charity; I wonder (especially with large, international charities) where the money goes, how much gets socked away into ‘administrative costs’, how much good is actually done, and whether or not charitable aid actually ends up creating dependents instead of assisting people and nations to stand on their own feet.  And having worked for various charities and non-profits, both in paid and volunteer positions, I have questions about how ethically some of them are run - how they treat their employees, how they set goals and measure results, how responsible and smart and efficient they are.  I see a lot of burnout, and a lot of brilliant people martyring themselves to no discernible positive effect in the community, a lot of waste.  Or wearing themselves thin until they’re no longer able to work in that field, with a huge net loss of intelligence, connections and human power.

But more troubling for me is this trend towards passive charity; the buying of something to demonstrate your beliefs, in substitution for actually acting on them.

Recently, Merlin Mann linked to a book called ‘Conspicuous Compassion,’ about the phenomenon of publicly displaying our charity (you can get a .pdf of the first chapter here; I recommend that you read it).  Though it goes to some places I disagree with, overall it was with relief that I saw this discomfort expressed by someone else.

I do agree that these public displays of charitable empathy exist in lieu of actual charitable acts.  People whom I see with white ribbons and pink standing mixers and red phones are rarely people I see taking any concrete actions around spousal abuse, cancer, or AIDS.  These are not the people you see volunteering at shelters or hospitals, though you may find them at parties and marathons.  And while I understand that these events, objects or products can in some ways raise awareness, open discussion and make an issue mainstream, when the next issue, product, or ribbon comes along, the spotlight moves with it.  I wonder how much of the real work gets done, when charities spend so much of their limited time and resources organizing gala events.

I see that some good may come of a few dollars, from a purchase you were going to make anyway, going towards research.  Or at least I see the argument.  But with many cause-branded products, the donation is not automatic; you have to register your purchase separately.  And the door is wide open for fraudulent schemes if you, as consumer, aren’t doing your homework on the companies and charities you’re supporting.  And hey, do you really need a new cellphone or standing mixer?  Your $200+ would be better donated directly to the charities doing the most research, the most active good.

But I’m going to tell you, as someone who runs a non-profit and sits on the Boards of charitable organizations, lots of local (and international) groups need your time as much as your money.  We need people to spend a couple of hours doing a fairly boring task.  We need a weekly commitment to make an hour’s worth of phone calls.  We’re asking you to help technicians load gear in and out of a venue.  We need you to drop in and stuff envelopes, or monitor a gallery, or sell tickets, or update our website.  We’re not asking for the kind of time your mothers put in to volunteer work; nobody has that anymore.  But a few hours out of your month or year make a big difference; a much bigger difference than your ribbon, your t-shirt, your standing mixer, your pink jewelry.  And it could make a discernible difference right there in your community.

Do you think AIDS is terrible?  Me too.  Do you think it’s wrong that some people abuse their spouses?  Me too.  Do you think it would be great if your community had a thriving, inclusive, arts community with lots of great resources?  Me too.

But honestly?  I don’t care what you think.  I care what you do.

So what are you doing?

1.  Twilight is a huge cultural phenomenon, and to avoid seeing this movie is to ignore the obsession of an entire generation.  Also, years of jokes and parodies which you won’t get because you skipped it.

2.  These movies are a laugh riot.  I mean, unintentional, but they’re hilarious.  Much more funny than most comedies.

3.  Robert Pattinson is pretty hot.

So New Moon.

I was going to write a review and be hilarious at the expense of this movie, but you’ll probably see it, and the humour implicit in Italian vampires who don’t wear any socks and teenage werewolves who never wear shirts will be clear to you.  Instead I’m going to talk directly to the parents of the teens and pre-teens who are going to see this film.

Firstly, don’t fool yourself: this series is not about abstinence.  It’s about sex.  Lots of it.  In the near future.  The whole series is designed to get the readers wound up, essentially, into a dreamy, inexperienced sexual frenzy.  That’s how they sell merchandise.  It’s not rocket science.

There’s probably no way you can avoid having your kid see any of the movies from this series unless you’re raising a socially maladjusted freak.  By hook or by crook, even if you forbid your kid from seeing this film, they’ll find a way.  When they’re older they will probably also get into your liquor cabinet.  So don’t go through all the drama of making these films or books forbidden fruit; you’ve got bigger fish to fry.  Take them to see it.  It’s really not worth fighting about.

But when the film is done, by god, sit them down and have a conversation.

Tell your smart, strong, responsible daughters that they should never let a boy or a man (or any partner) treat them the way Bella (or any of the women) are treated in this movie.  That when they get a car of their own, they are the ones who drive it unless they are somehow unable to.  Tell them that they get to determine who they’re friends with, and when - or if - they stop associating with those friends.  And that if any one ever hurts them - physically or emotionally - they should leave that person immediately.  That they are the master of their own homes, bodies, and possessions and anyone who reaches past them to answer their phone (or who checks their email, text messages, etc.) is seriously overstepping their rights. That anyone who tries to create rules around their decisions about their bodies and sexuality has no business doing so.  That it is not romantic to be at the mercy of someone controlling, jealous, unpredictable, and irresponsible.  That no love is ever worth giving up sovereignty over yourself.

Tell your smart, strong, responsible sons that they should never - ever - treat a woman (or any partner) like Bella and the other woman in this movie are being treated.  That they should respect the personal space, bodies, and possessions of the people they love.  That they should never try to emotionally or physically hurt the people in their lives.  That breaking into someone’s room while they sleep will land them in jail, as will any of the stalker-type activities that Edward engages in.  That controlling behaviour is unacceptable, and that sexuality is something shared between partners, not the decision of solely one or the other.

Okay, now tell your son or daughter all the advice I gave for the opposite sex, too.

And then, for pete’s sake, tell them that whenever they decide to have sex is up to them (and no one else), and that you know they’ll come to a responsible decision about it, and that you hope it’s with someone who respects them and cares for them.  Tell them that you trust them, and that you hope they’ll use birth control and take steps to prevent STDs.

Please make sure they know where to find condoms, how to get the birth control pill, where to go to get tested for things.  There’s probably a great Women’s or Sexual Health clinic in your neighborhood; make sure they know where it is.

We can’t protect kids by hiding things from them.  But the best defense is a good offense, and your kid is going to be a lot better off armed with the knowledge that what they’re viewing up on that screen, no matter how dreamy Robert Pattinson is, is not an ideal of how relationships work or how people behave.

Hopefully, you’ve got your own arsenal of media that can help you counter-act the effect of New Moon, but if not, I’ve got plenty of suggestions.  Please remember that boys as well as girls benefit from seeing strong female characters.  Generally, I love strong, smart characters regardless of gender, and this list contains lots of both male and female characters who are awesome.

Candace’s List of great movies & television shows to show your teen/pre-teen:

When I was a kid, we watched everything, regardless of movie rating or our age.  I’d consider everything on this list  to be pre-teen appropriate, but you’re the parent; do some parenting, and judge for yourself.

Labyrinth: The protagonist, Sarah, is a bit whiny but in the end rejects the Goblin King’s offer to stay with him and does her own thing.  There are also lots of puppets and song + dance numbers.  Yes, I own the soundtrack.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Ignore the movie.  The first three seasons of this TV show contains loads of brooding hot guys and tough, ass-kicking teenage women.  Aside from staking vampires, most problems are solved via teamwork and intelligence.  The clothing is a bit laughable.  Sex is dealt with in a way that I think most kids would benefit from seeing.

Doctor Who: The newer BBC kids’ TV series, which started a few years ago with Christopher Eccleston and Billie Piper, includes lots and lots of strong, female characters who I find pretty inspiring.  It’s chock-full of goodness, plus the Doctor as played by David Tennant is super-cute and a bit emo, and the protagonists rely on brains over force to solve their problems.

Torchwood: A spin-off from Doctor Who, this series is designed for adult audiences and there’s a bit more violence, sex and swearing, but also plenty of strong characters who focus on intelligence and teamwork, again.  Sex is dealt with in an adult way, so less dreamy sighing and more consequences/etc. One of the few mainstream vehicles that deals with sexual orientation and its malleability.

Pride and Prejudice: The original BBC television mini-series; don’t even speak to me of the horror that is Kiera Knightly as Elizabeth Bennett.  Snappy dialogue, smart strong women, lots of different relationships explored.

Ginger Snaps: A film about girls reaching puberty, and werewolves. As I recall, it’s a bit violent, but what a great film!  Ignore the sequels.

Girl Fight: Michelle Rodriguez is great in this movie!  It deals with the conflicts you run up against as a tough woman, and what compromises you reach and what you don’t compromise on.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: There’s some really nice adult relationships in this movie; Chow Yun Fat and Michelle Yeoh are terrific.  Their characters have all the understated romantic tragedy you could ask for, while also being totally ass-kicking.

This Fall was the 10th anniversary, and we were lucky enough to be performing at (and raising funds for) the Market Hall, a venue that has a huge place in my heart.  Back in the day, Artspace was housed in the building and used it as a combined venue for visual art and live performance, and in highschool few weeks went by when I wasn’t there for a show or a rehearsal.  Getting to play Miranda in The Tempest at the Market Hall is still one of the highlights of my theatre career; the house has such lovely acoustics, and it’s such a gorgeous old wooden building, and that production was so much fun.

So it means even more to me to be part of this iteration of the Cabaret, because we’re helping to raise funds for the renovation taking place from 2010-2011, remaking the grand old lady of George Street to make better use of the available space, utilizing the part of the building that sits under the clock tower, and preserving the terrific acoustics and historical and architectural beauty while bringing the venue up to modern standards.  I have high hopes for this place, and applaud the people who are doing so much work to make this happen.

So Friday, November 6, amongst rhinestones and fishnets and feathers, we took the stage - dancers and drag queens, singers and hams - along with the fabulous Max’s Cabaret Band - Rob Phillips on piano, Amanda Mackey on drums, and John Mather on bass (such a pleasure to perform with this gang - they made me sound great!).  There was an excited and warm full house, and the VIP seating got delicious food and desserts from local restaurants as well as a chance to try the Cabaret’s signature martini - the Lola, all delivered by Max’s Girls, who served the tables whenever they weren’t dancing on stage.

I always love being a part of the Cabaret, but I feel like this year, there was something extra.  The performances were terrific, and the evening was kept from careening off-course by the lovely and wild Ludmilla, our MC, who kept things rolling all night long.  At the end of the night, when Jeanette Sanderson took the stage to sing Is That All There Is?, all the Cabaret performers came out to grab audience members and dance with them, and everyone just felt like a great big extended family.  A fabulous end to a fabulous night!

Click below to see my performance of ‘Easy Money’, or visit Max’s Cabaret on YouTube to view performances from throughout the show!

I was a kid in the 80s, when TV (and fashion) was awful.  Characters had one dimension; plots were hackneyed and predictable.  Characters didn’t develop, and the end of an episode was like a magic reset button; nothing changed, everything went back to how it had been at the beginning of the episode.  How it had always been.

Online, I’ve noticed that people of my generation seem to be doing this to themselves: casting one facet of their personality in the role of The Interesting Thing About me so they can blog about it and (eventually, I assume it’s hoped) get a book deal or a television show of their very own.  Tech blogs, political blogs, movie blogs, mommy blogs - if you can name it, there’s someone out there blogging about it to the exclusion of all else.  It draws an audience of like-minded people, and soon you get a marvelous infinite recursion*, where the only change is that opinions get more extreme, entrenched and isolated from the rest of the world.

This kind of specialization bores me to tears, and it’s for the same reason that 80s TV did - no character development.  Nothing moves forward.  Once you’re a political blogger, you keep doing that forever, and if you stray from the subject or your opinions change or develop, you risk losing your audience.  So you shore up their opinions and yours, endlessly re-creating the self you were when you started the blog.  I started blogging ten years ago, and if I was the same person I was in university (or playing at being the same) it’d be the tragedy of my life.

Oh hey, Daniel.

If I turned this website into the Blog of Shirtless Men, I’d have a much larger audience.  I can imagine how I’d optimize the SEO (yes, I’d optimize my optimization) and what my markets would be; that’d be the easiest sell of all time besides shirtless women.  I’d probably end up as a “Sexpert” on Tyra giving women (and gay men) questionable relationship advice.  And every day I did that, I’d be ensuring that my mind atrophied and all the things I value in myself withered and died.

Did that seem judgmental or cynical?  I fucking hope so.  Because developing one facet of your personality to the detriment of all else is bad for you and bad for our success as human beings.  And you don’t need to trust me on this one; I’ve got history to back me up.

Seriously, I love this guy.

Consider our good friend Genghis Khan (that’s a great book, btw), who was frankly totally awesome.  Aside from conquering more territory than Alexander the Great (another hero of mine), he also did this marvelous thing where he allowed the people of each place he conquered to (usually) keep their culture, religion, and essential body parts.  He took the best and the brightest people of each culture, and brought them together.  The ideas behind Chinese fireworks and European cathedral bells cross-pollinated and became a major advance in warfare technology - canons.

Or think about the Kingdom of Sicily in the middle ages, where the mingling of Muslim, Christian and Jewish ideas, culture, and people brought about a  distinct flowering of arts, sciences, and culture.  When they started doing stupid things like kicking out all of the Jews, they floundered, financially and culturally (okay, that’s a generalization, and you could argue with me on it, but it was a big part).

Or consider Gavin Menzies’ assertion (in his book 1434) that the Chinese visit to Europe ignited the Renaissance.  The book, like all of his work, is not very well-written but his ideas are kind-of earth-shakingly wonderful.  The central idea is that the Chinese introduced to parts of Europe ideas and learning that were foreign to  European thought, and when those collided they opened new channels that lead to massive leaps in technology, arts, learning and culture (though I think that the Arabs, who preserved copies of the ancient writers and had added substantially to the store of knowledge should get a lot more credit).

Or how Picasso’s exposure to African art completely changed and influenced his style - and all visual art in the 100 years since, around the world (I don’t like his work, nor a lot of Modern art, but I appreciate the change and the ideas behind it).

When different ways of thinking collide, crash, or sit side by each, there is opportunity to move forward, to develop.  This is usually uncomfortable; our assertions get challenged, our sense of what is right and wrong gets upended, people fight, and you often have to admit that the ideas you used to passionately defend were wrong (that’s the hardest part).  For a society, it’s a vital process that leads to financial and cultural success; for an individual, it’s growing up.  It’s character development.

What I’ve been noticing in TV lately is this gorgeous thing where different cultures or ways of being are being shown as doing the uncomfortable dance around how to live together and the changes that happen when they do.  Rome had all these lovely juxtapositions of class.  Deadwood was an exploration of what happens when the normal societal rules are stripped away and everyone - regardless of class - is thrown into a pile in the middle of nowhere.   Glee (and High School Musical, though with a lot less complexity) mostly rests of the tensions between jocks and nerds and whether or not it’s possible to straddle those groups.  True Blood, about humans and newly-outed Vampires explores the tensions between established and emerging cultures.  Heroes, though I feel like it’s gone off the rails a lot, is about internal struggle - what happens when we are changing and challenging the truths that are essential to ourselves - who we are as people, as human beings.

You can’t really say any of that for The Golden Girls or Dallas or Full House.  Sorry 80s TV, you sucked!**

It’s the Generalist who (while they are good at a couple of things) is actively interested in the rest of the world who moves the world forward.  The Specialist might be really, really good at say, graphic design or rocket science, but there’ll be a point where that individuals skill and knowledge plateau, and it’s not really possible to develop any further.   Specialists are great when you have them operating on your brain, not so great when you want your culture to flourish.  There has to be a happy accident, a catalyst of some kind that shakes us out of our complacency, that changes the game somehow.  And we won’t find that if we re-tread the same territory or spend too much time with like-minded individuals.

In the nakedly self-promoting glare of one-topic bloggers the world looks like a pretty terrible place.  Thankfully, I think a sea-change is coming; I believe that Western culture is tuning in to the many blessings of difference, and beginning to reject the extremism that stereotypes and sealed knowledge and an infinite loop breeds.  At least, I hope it’s so.  For my own edification, if nothing else.

*Am I using this term correctly?  I think I am, but I’ve been wrong before.  I mean an endless repetition, like when you point a video camera at a Television.  In any event, recursion is fun to say.  Recursion, recursion, recursion. Infinite recursion is even better; all those tasty syllables! Recursion, from the Latin to run back.

** Am I missing something awesome?  Because I don’t remember liking anything on TV in the 80s, or even most of the 90s. Friends, Beverly Hills 90210, Seinfeld… blech.

I am continuing, as I had planned, as Artistic Director, and stepping down as Executive Director.  Partially for continuity, and to be there in a mentoring role to whomever becomes ED, and partially because I really love being involved with the festival, and the things I’ve always dreamed of doing will be possible if I’m freed up in other areas.  Also because I’ve already started booking acts for next year.

Raging Asian Women were the runaway success; they’re  incredible, and wonderful, gracious people who completely get the festival and the spirit of the event and enhanced it by their presence.  Unity were also amazing; I wish the weather had been better before their set, as more people ought to have heard them, but the first song in particular was freakin’ crazy-good. David Newland soldiered on throughout the entire weekend, inspiring and enlightening wherever he went.  David Simard is always a treat to be around, and his music is gorgeous.  Sheesham and Lotus were fabulous evening hosts, and put on a terrific set (as attested by their CD sales, which were through the roof).   Elliott Brood were brilliant, and the perfect end to the evening, and the super-sweetest guys on earth to work with.

But I’ve been telling people that music is a part of the festival, not the point of the festival, and trying to impress on anyone I talk to about it that the whole point is to work with decent people and create a community spirit that everyone can carry away with them into their real lives.  There are too many good bands out there; I don’t ever need to book assholes, people who are going to be dicks to my sound techs, my volunteers, my hosts, my audience or me.  This is a community festival, not a music festival; this is not one of those horrible, insane events where 20-somethings are herded like cattle into enclosed spaces, charged exorbitant rates for water and food, and sponsors decide and brand every aspect.  This is the sort of festival where you can spread out a blanket on the hill, alone, with friends, or with your family, listen to music you don’t hear every day, soak up some sun and see people in your community out doing the same thing.   The music is what brings people to the park, but what sets our festival apart from anything else in the County is the sense of the broader community.

And when I say ‘community festival,’ I don’t mean that I only book bands who are from the community (which is not the festival’s mandate, and if I did book only local bands I’d lose 1/3 of our funding), but bands that serve the event in some way - by exposing our community to new sounds and ideas, by celebrating diversity, by cracking open doors to musical styles and genres that you don’t otherwise hear, by presenting music you’d never listen to on your own in a setting without risk or judgment.  My goal is to bring together people from all over our community in an inclusive space where no-one feels like they don’t belong, where everyone is welcome; free, accessible, comfortable, easy-going, and lovely.  I want everyone to see something of themselves reflected on the stage, and everyone to see something completely outside of their experience.

This is the first year where I feel that we’ve really made significant moves towards that vision; I’ve always been proud of the work we’ve done, but this year it seems like we’ve finally found the right format for the festival that will make it possible to achieve that dream.  We’ve got a long way to go, and a million tiny kinks to work out, but I am so proud of the grace and patience and quiet strength of our volunteers, especially our Board of Directors, of the talent, ability and friendliness of the musicians that joined us this year, and the open minds and hearts of the people who joined us in the audience.

Our community: much bigger and more interesting than a scene or a genre.  Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.