It began to rain as I biked to school this morning. When I turned onto the road that takes me out of the city towards the rural-urban fringe where the trades campus is located, the sunlight that had shone earlier in the morning gave one last hurrah: A rainbow appeared across the sky ahead of me, with one end seeming to point to the college. Ha! I thought to myself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned these past months, it’s that rainbows are not particularly welcome around here, at least not the kind that celebrate sexual and gender diversity.
Of course, I’m more likely to wave a black flag than a rainbow one, but still. The point remains.
Then I was thinking of the other meaning of the rainbow: There’s a pot of gold at the end, right? Which I suppose is really a more accurate reading of this sign, if I want to take it as one.
For the first time in my life, I’m developing a career. When I was younger, jobs were only for the purpose of paying rent and careers were for sell-outs bowing down to the man. When I was a university student, and then afterwards when I worked at a research institute, concepts and critical analysis were what mattered, and jobs depended on who I could impress and what grants they could secure. All of my previous ideas for my financial future were either unsustainable or impractical: Silkscreening instructor, website manager, stained glass artisan, bike mechanic, graphic designer, radio show host…
I don’t mean that these aren’t great possibilities for some folks, but given my skills and my personality, none of them were logical choices unless I was going to simultaneously invest a whole lot of energy into expanding my knowledge. Which I wasn’t: I wanted them to just happen.
Even the idea of becoming a university professor: I think I’d be a rad prof, but you know what? I hate writing academic papers. Loathe it, in fact. Producing my honours thesis was a horrid experience, one that I’d question repeating. So really, while a return to academia is on my to-do list, it’s waaaaaaaay down at the bottom, after “have kids” and “bike across canada” and even “learn to speak Irish”. Why on earth was I considering making a living as an academic?!!!
Which is a long way of saying that even when trade school hasn’t been welcoming and I’ve felt frustrated by the way things are organized around here, I’m very happy to be on my way to being an electrician. Being qualified in a trade excites me, because I’ll be useful for both my problem-solving ability and my dexterity, and for the most part will be able to depend on making a steady living wage based upon those skills.
Also, I’m rather good at it: I am proud to report that I just scored 98% on an exam regarding calculating ampacities for different conductor applications.
(want more on casual homophobia at trade school? see part 1 and part 2)
so yeah, last week i reached a breaking point with school, which unhappily coincided with having two puppies demanding attention and 4 am pee-trips to the great outdoors.
not enough sleep + 10 weeks of constant homophobic submersion = one fucking mad fg
the coursework itself is still great: i’m not racing ahead anymore but still keeping pace, and mostly enjoying the assignments. on a personal level, i also enjoy most of my classmates: i crack jokes, they laugh, i am redeemed for years of social exclusion in elementary school, we all win.
HOWEVER. every single fucking day, these classmates have declared things they hate to be “gay”, and insulted one another with “fag” or “homo” or even “fudgepacker”. WTF, PEOPLE???
i was going to write here all about my amazing success with calling classmates on their bullshit, but i couldn’t keep up. after the initial good interactions (of which i am happy to report there were several), i started getting a helluva lot of the following responses:
“i didn’t know you were gay.”
“it’s just that i always hear that sort of talk around me.”
“some of my best friends are gay and they don’t mind when i say that.”
“i didn’t know you’d hear me.”
double-yew tee eff. yeah, i realize that you’re uncomfortable cuz i’ve just pointed out that you’re behaving like a bigot, but please don’t try to foist responsibility for that bullshit onto somebody else.
like i said, i couldn’t keep up, and it was very very very wearing. especially since no one else ever says anything: they will chat with me during breaks, they will ask for my help on assignments, they will share jokes with me, but not a single one will tell another student to lay off the anti-gay comments.
so last thursday i talked to one of the supervisors, and basically had a mini-meltdown in her office. her focus was on making sure that i’d be able to succeed in the program, and so she offered to arrange a study space for me in the library: thanks, but no thanks. i *like* being in the classroom, i just don’t like being subjected to hate speech. besides, i told her, that wouldn’t change anything: these people need to know that queers are EVERYWHERE (whether you recognize us or not!) and they be told that it is unacceptable to talk the way they do, and they need to hear it from someone with authority.
on friday i was absent, because i was en route to the mainland, to rock out at the photovoltaics course.
the supervisor said that she’d talk to the whole program at morning roll-call that day, and make it clear that using homophobic language is grounds for dismissal.
not sure how it went, but today was a good day at school: people didn’t treat me any different, and i also didn’t hear any of the usual ear-pollution. if this keeps up, if these people learn that homophobia is unacceptable AND that queers are everyday classmates/coworkers/neighbours/etc. WHO WILL NOT SIMPLY SHUT UP AND DISAPPEAR, well then… i think we might just stand a fighting chance.
_classmate a, to classmate b_
what a FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG!
_me, looking up from my desk a few feet away_
that’s completely inappropriate.
_classmate a_
oh! right! hey, i’m sorry… uh… sorry… i shouldn’t have said that… i never will again, okay?
_me_
yeah, cuz it’s completely inappropriate.
_classmate a, shrugging_
i’m sorry… it’s just that i was raised with that sort of talk all around me, and i just can’t help it, you know? but i AM sorry.
_me, in my head_
i don’t care if you were raised by card-carrying members of the n@zi party or the ku k1ux kl@n:in this classroom, you have no right to disrespect ANYBODY like that, GET IT? IT’S STILL COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE!!!
_me, out loud, as i put on headphones and immerse self in textbook_
yeah. well. huh.
***
they say you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, which is why i usually work hard on addressing oppressive language with proactive techniques (“wow! you just said something REALLY offensive! let’s talk about it!”).
as i’ve documented before, sometimes i’m too tired and instead just disengage and avoid my classmates so that i never have to hear their homophobic (racist, sexist, transphobic, etc etc etc) bullshit.
sometimes, though, there’s this funny alternative, in which my head is overflowing with the things i WANT to say and yet i can’t, because it seems like if i have the energy to throw THAT down, i oughta at least TRY to engage in a proactive fashion so that this dude doesn’t just walk away thinking i’m a rabid homo with an axe to grind. i get stuck between the honey and the vinegar, both of which can be pretty fucking sticky.
when i signed up for the program to assist unemployed trades students, i thought it’d be a good way to get some mentorship. to be honest, at first i was hoping they’d spring for my tuition, but i figured it was more likely that i’d get to meet some electricians and do some job shadowing. turns out that i was partly right on my initial guess: the program can’t pay for the basic course in which i’m already enrolled, but what they can do is find the money to pay for any additional training or certification that i could leverage into employment.
originally, i thought i wouldn’t take advantage of this opportunity, because my options seemed limited: once i finish this course, all i really need is an apprenticeship, and that’s pretty much where everyone starts.
but who would have thought? one of my school assignments was to research potential employers, and it turned out to be a crazily useful exercise! i ended up looking at the websites of all these local companies that do solar photovoltaic array installations, which led me to firing off a couple emails asking how an entry-level electrician can develop that specialty, which led to some great advice and more web links.
that’s when i saw the listing for the weekend-long “intro to photovoltaics” course at the college in van, coming up at the beginning of october, with no prerequisites required beyond a knowledge of electrical theory. i don’t have the $315 tuition, yet it’s not that much in the grander scheme of things. a few phonecalls/emails/signatures later, and the program’s agreed to pay for it!
i still have to get myself to the mainland, and stay with friends for the weekend, but regardless: i feel very lucky. i suddenly feel like this electrician thing could be a lot more than a way to earn a living, like i could really get into it for reasons that go beyond the general satisfaction of problem-solving and tool-wielding.
still waiting on word regarding puppy. am kicking self for getting into this sort of situation with a sweet but flaky hippy-type, aka the owner of the poppa dog… i probably shoulda known that “yes, four of these puppies are looking for homes, i’d love you to choose one!” actually meant something more along the lines of “well, i think you’re nice and i’d like you to have a puppy so i’ll offer you one even though i haven’t got any sort of arrangement with the person who is taking care of them and she may also be offering the same puppies to other people at this very moment in time”.
le sigh.
still packing, moving on monday. oats and i took apart the gorgeous phonograph/radio cabinet, or rather, gutted it: the innards were gladly received by a local shop that restores antique radios, though not before i took some photos of them (see new header image!). the cabinet itself is now light enough that i can actually lift one side of it, which is to say that it’s still one heavy fucking piece of solid wood furniture. we’re thinking of installing small speakers inside it, and a video projector, as a modern take on the entertainment unit that it once was back in the day.
still rocking it in the classroom: am at the top of my cohort, and feeling rather proud. tomorrow i’m meeting with a representative of a program that provides support to women studying trades, and i hope to be able to use their resources to leverage a job for the new year. that’s one thing my cleverness can’t help with: most of my classmates seem to have electricians in their families or social circles, and so will be getting an inside scoop on employment. me? nada… some friends have offered an introduction to a sailing friend of theirs, who is an electrician at the dockyards (which would be a great place to work!), but i’ve yet to actually meet an electrician and chat them up about job opportunities. it’s a hurdle, but i’m trying to figure out how to get around it.
yesterday’s weepy messiness continued through the afternoon, culminating with me accidentally slicing my fingertip on a knife while washing dishes. the ensuing blood and loud swearing made me feel a bit better, as did the event that immediate followed: i got a call from the local college, saying that they’d had a student drop out of the electrical foundation program, and asking if i’d like the spot.
YES.
it starts the first week of august: less than a month from now. holy fuck.
to be clear, i’m elated: while the program doesn’t guarantee me a career as an electrician, it’s a great introduction and also an opportunity to find out if i’d like to pursue the whole apprenticeship-to-journey-ticket adventure. when my spot on the waitlist was confirmed back in may, i was told that it would likely be 8 to 12 months before there’d be room for me. still i was hopeful, because when oats and i attended the college info session back in february, they’d mentioned that there’s often a burst of intakes at the start of august and december, simply because fewer students are ready at those times of year. against the odds, hope wins!
i’m also feeling a mixed sort of sadness. this time last year, on my birthday, i’d made it to the top of the waitlist of canada’s most prestigious urban planning masters program and was awaiting a phone call similar to the one i got yesterday, telling me that i had to get myself packed up and moved to vancouver so that i could begin my new life as a graduate student. that phone call never came. now, i’m very glad that it didn’t because if i’d left i’d never have gotten together with oats, and i wouldn’t have gone to australia, and i wouldn’t have done a lot of other rad stuff that made my 27th year absolutely excellent. aside from that, my professor and mentor at the local university told me that i’d have been eaten alive in that masters program, because they have little room for politics such as mine.
so, really, it all worked out for the best.
and yet it’s a goodbye of sorts, or at least a see-ya-later: to my academic life, to the vision of myself as a future university professor, to the classist notions that have surrounded me as a kid growing up among the intelligentsia. even this morning, when my mom called to say happy birthday and i told her the good news, she made a joke about how this’ll be great because someday i’ll be able to wire my own office at the university where i’ll be a professor. that hurt a bit, because she’s usually the most supportive of any of my parents.
still, i get it: for my parents, going to university was the way out of the working class, and they have worked hard to surround themselves with the accoutrements of a cultured life. they raised me to value books, travel, gardens, art and liberal social justice, and they taught me that it’s more important to work with my brain instead of my body. they have their own baggage around this, as three of them are the first (and only) people in their families to ever have education beyond high school. also, being educational professionals themselves (3 teachers, 1 librarian) and of older generation(s), they have a different idea about what my bachelor’s degree in geography (and indigenous studies!) means: shouldn’t i be able to make a career from that??? i think they honestly don’t understand my reality.
and it probably offends them a little, even though they may never admit it outright.
what i need to work on now is admitting to my own internalized classism. what’s wrong with being an electrician? nothing at all, except that capitalism says it’s not as socially valuable as being a university professor. or a corporate CEO. or a politician. which is stupid. right?
the crazy thing that i’m only just starting to dismantle is that due to my class privilege, i could feasibly be any or all of these things. i have the social cues down pat, can assimilate the vocabulary easily, and can move into these spheres simply based on my physical/cultural resemblance to the status quo. i would be granted permission by the gatekeepers, because i am white and educated and confident.
in a way, me choosing trade school is not a rejection of the privilege my parents provide for me, but a continued acceptance and manipulation of it. i can make this choice easily, because i have so many other options. even as i write this, i’m wary of denying agency and autonomy to working class tradespeople, which isn’t my intention (though… there it is!). i need to understand how my privilege affects my choice to enter the trades, because it can seem almost offensive: i took a graduate level course last fall, and it was incredibly challenging and exhilarating but the critical analysis and deleuzian theory were overwhelming, so i’m going to become an electrician right now, then will likely go to graduate school in another 10 or 20 years. just like that :: snaps fingers ::.
anyway. these are the thoughts that fill my head, and even as they are complicated, i’m happy that they are percolating because it’s giving me a chance to see where i fit in the world.
now, i’ve got to get a million and one things ready for tonight’s birthday party. we had a bad scare last night as oats’ cat plummeted from a 10 foot high ledge and seemed quite injured – an emergency trip to the vet proved otherwise, but i’m glad we made sure even though it shot our evening plans for bbq preparations… that really would have made yesterday more messy than i can handle.
- under the cover of darkness, walk down the block and around the corner to the parking lot outside the dentist office, and sidle up to the orange tree by the west wall. occasionally looking over your shoulder to ensure that the receptionist is still safely behind the desk inside the building, fill a bag with as many oranges as you can easily grab without a ladder.*
- once home, rinse oranges, dry, and arrange nicely in a bowl.
- preheat oven to 350 degrees.
- in a large bowl, combine 1 cup sugar, 1 cup flour, 1/4 cup cocoa, 1/4 cup ground almonds (failing that, go with 1/2 cup more flour), 1 pinch of salt, 1 teaspoon baking soda, and the zest of the two oranges that you accidentally gouged badly while picking from the tree. (note: these are pretty small oranges… i might use only one, if we were talking about big navel oranges)
- juice those two de-zested oranges into a measuring cup, and add 1 teaspoon vanilla, and 1/3 cup veggie oil, then fill with warm water to the 1 cup mark and stir with a fork.
- line a muffing tin with paper cupcake liners. or don’t. whatever.
- pour the liquid mix into the dry stuff in the bowl, and thoroughly combine with as few strokes as possible.
- divide batter equally in muffin tin, and bake for ~15 minutes or until a knife inserted into a centrally-located cupcake comes out clean. enjoy!
if you want icing, i should first tell you that my recipe for this is much less exact, and requires some willingness to fuck up. if you’re okay with that: in a food processor, whip together ~1/4 cup margerine, ~1/4 cup “better than cream cheese” spread (or you could use… *gasp* actual cream cheese!) and the zest of one tiny orange until smooth. a little at a time, add ~1 and 1/2 cups icing sugar. if it’s too thick, try adding a little bit of orange juice. vanilla is nice too. remember to let your cupcakes cool completely before icing them, or you’ll end up with puddles.
i’m flying home to canada in 3 days. also, i landed an interview for that rad job i want. combine those two facts with some sweet tender cupcakes, and all the melancholy that was weighing on me earlier this afternoon is successfully being chased away.
*my roommates and i have been watching this tree for weeks, and no one’s picking it: the fruit is beginning to fall off and rot, which is a crying shame!
Filed under: Anarchist, Artist, Homebody, Scavenger, Student, Traveler, Worker
i didn’t get the 35-hour-per-week job. this annoys me, because my qualifications should have at least earned me a spot on the shortlist. however, aside from that, i’m feeling good about it, because there are so many other things i’d rather be doing than giving a large amount of energy to someone else’s project. though i believe in the overall aim of that specific organization, i don’t think i’d have felt satisfied by the role i’d have had to play. all the freedom of my last job spoiled me, even as it drove me a bit crazy.
with some of my own plans in mind, as well as the general idea that i’d be more employable in the sort of flexible contracts that suit me best, i’m considering taking a bookkeeping course at the college in the fall. this is also because i’m realizing that i’d do better if i stopped ignoring my interest in money, and instead try to harness it for useful things. all those years of knee-jerk anarchism have made me reluctant to understand the reality of capitalism, even as they’ve made me very confident in my DIY pride and belief that you don’t have to fuck others over to survive. i have this idea that i can hold true to the anarchism that anchors me, as long as i don’t try to hide my struggles with ethics, how our economic system works, and my place in it. or maybe that’s me trying to validate myself; i don’t know right now. but i’m okay with that.
i’m also a tightwad. had i mentioned this yet? fanciful sojourns in the southern hemisphere to the contrary, i’m all about pinching pennies… which is why i was thrilled to pick up this book at a vinnie’s today!
it was written in 1966, but seems appropriate for these financial times. i’m two-thirds of the way through it so far, and it’s a pretty good mix of common sense, interesting ideas, utter pretentiousness, outdated advice, and totally fucked-up sexist bullshit, with a good dash of class/race/queer ignorance thrown in for fun.
no, i will not rent out my spare room to a single working mother in exchange for her cooking my meals when she gets home from work every evening.
yes, i will research factory stores if i ever need to buy a… huh… well, something that’s made in a factory and that i might want to have new instead of secondhand. i can’t think of what that might be, but there’s probably something. toothpaste?
i have another obsession as of late, aside from being cheap and mocking everything. it developed when oats and i were in queensland, because though we’re not your typical shopoholics, we both love the chance beauty and good deals of the small town thrift store. somehow, i ended up getting overly fond of small tablecloths and silk scarves printed with commemorative australiana of one variety or another. you know: koalas… or a map of the northern territory… or common birds/wildflowers. though i suppose i like most retro kitsch, i hate filling my house with crap, so rarely buy it. there’s something about these pieces of fabric, though: they’re so well-made, and yet tacky, that i find them unbearably appealing…. especially cuz they’re usually $1 or less. oats was good enough to take my new collection home with her when she returned to canada on friday, creating more space in my own bag. i’m not aiming to fill it, but i have picked up three more pieces.
to be fair, this isn’t like my collection of bad nautical art (i <3 embroidered ships and seagulls, in plastic frames!), with which i intend to decorate my bathroom until the end of days. for these tableclothes and scarves, my plan is to sew cushion-covers and/or picnic blankets, some of which i’ll be able to sell or give away as gifts. if enough people like them, i might even try to do a craft fair or maybe etsy. i don’t really want a full-blown business, but it’d be nice to cover costs for the stuff i make for myself.
oats left this morning, and i miss her. my sadness is tempered by the fact that in one week, she’ll be picking me up at the vancouver airport and spiriting me away to our island home. fuck, i’m looking forward to that.
i went with her to the airport shuttle, which left from southern cross station at 8:30 am: it was dark when we got up, and now i’m tired and achy. it doesn”t help that i fucked-up my back a couple days ago… the muscles are seized in my neck and shoulders and there’s a lot of pain. aside from these complaints, and the loneliness that comes from the sudden absence of my beloved after 19 days of constant companionship, it was kinda nice to take the tram home from downtown just as all the commuters were heading the other direction.
what else is new? like i said last post, i’ve applied for two jobs, either of which would be very, very good. one of them pays really well and is professional-ish, though is a 35-hour workweek and could be a lot more admin tasks than i’m used to, plus involves one or two characters with whom i’ve indirectly had problems in the past… nothing serious, just that their attitudes and ways of working have had a negative impact on projects at a previous job. i think i’d really like the rest of the staff, and as much as i’d prefer to keep my workweek down to a 30 hour maximum, it would be nice to have the extra income. the other job is only 15 hours per week, and is everything i’d want in a media/personel position, including a commitment to radical politics and anti-oppressive practices. it pays less, but i’d be collaborating with great people, and the environment would complement my work at the bike shop as well as the workers’ co-op. both are union and come with benefits, which is very important cuz i haven’t seen a dentist or had new glasses since i became a non-student contract employee two years ago.
my fingers are crossed, especially for the second opportunity, but i’m not stressed about it. if neither one pans out, then i’ll have more time for other work, both self-created and external. aside from the usual small businesss plans i’m always cooking up, i’ve been thinking a lot about credit unions as of late, and would like to see if i can get some sort of part-time entry-level position.
in case it isn’t obvious, i’ve reached a point in my melbourne life where i’m no longer really here: my heart has returned to canada, and my mind is quickly following. a few more days of tying loose ends, and then the body goes too!
i’m back from the epic road trip, in which oats and i took a camper van on a meandering adventure from brisbane up to the tropic of capricorn. i wanted to take my photo next to whatever landmark there’d be at the tropic, but guess what? there wasn’t one. wtf??? i know there’s one next to the highway at the tropic of cancer in mexico, or at least there was 15 years ago: it was a big concrete sphere, painted yellow. i was hoping for something similar at this tropic, but apparently that’s not how they roll in queensland. as a geographer, this bothers me: we musn’t take our latitude lines for granted!
actually, the disappointment of there being no landmark would have been easier to take, if the town at the tropic had been a little more welcoming to those of us with diverse presentations of sexuality/gender. rockhampton wasn’t the worst place i’ve ever been, and it’s not like the stares were anything new, but for some reason i couldn’t shake the feeling that in rocky, there might be more follow-through on some of the more narrow-minded beliefs. maybe it was the life size fiberglass bulls all over the place, reminding me of alberta.
it was a fantastic adventure overall, and i’m glad we did it. more stories will come. for now, i need to apply for two jobs that have come up in my home city. i’m not holding my breath for one of the them, but the other would be absolutely perfect for me… apparently other folks agree, cuz 5 different people emailed me the job posting. it’s nice to feel supported.
sun, wind, van, road... queensland!
