The Version I Tell White Girls I Meet in the Clubs
I’m a freelance journalist who, between writing on an abundance of humanitarian topics (evil puppy mills and female inequality mostly) for some of the biggest magazines in the world, jots down some thoughts on this blog – a wind blown excelsior wrap in the far corner of the blogosphere.
Check the first posting I ever made here. Now look at the calendar. It’s been three years since I started this blog in a rage at the decaying state of pop culture and, it would seem, human intelligence yet I’ve made less than 30 posts. I’m lazy. And insecure when faced with voicing an opinion that will linger online forever. Or until The Dark Knight Rises trailer goes online, at which point the internet will explode.
Truthfully, when I started out, I didn’t want anyone to read it. I told no one of this blog’s existence. When you think about it, why would anyone log on to read how overrated I find Christopher Nolan. Despite having nothing positive to say and no real skill in saying it, my narcissism won out (as it always does) and I re-convinced myself that the world MUST hear what I have to say. And here we are.
I was born in Saskatoon, as the only black child born to that city in 1982. Ok, that might not be true but I don’t think I’m far off. We moved to Calgary for some vague reason I can scarcely comprehend. I loved it in Saskatoon – still do. Although I did burn a quarter of my torso with hot oil from a pan (the first and last time I attempted to cook) so perhaps I am romanticizing a rather torturous childhood.
I attended Mount Royal College and SAIT for a combined six years only to enter the workforce in a field that had absolutely nothing to do with what I studied. I see a life working 9 to 5 to support an insubordinate dog and, if the future is kind enough, several children who will come to loathe me. And me them. I’m more scared of this than anything. Well, except for birds. They have the evil tortured eyes of an animal that promises pain, blood and suffering.
Between the mind-blowing racism (Calgary can go toe-to-toe with any backwater Mississippi town) and the wealth worship I have come to loathe this city yet stay because I’m lazy. I am happy enough complaining from my couch, pantless, scratching my back with a severed broom shaft to jeopardize it by relocating.