Made Up

I kind of love this post on Rookie. The writer’s philosophy on makeup seems to be pretty much the opposite to mine, but I think it comes from the same place.

I don’t wear makeup. I stopped about ten years ago, partly because I realized one day that I actually preferred how my eyes looked without any eyeliner and partly because I didn’t want to take the time to put it on (that’s valuable procrastination time that I’m wasting!). I completely reject the idea that people (women) should have to wear makeup to be considered presentable, but I don’t think that really factored into my decision to stop. I think I was able to reject the idea in theory while still sometimes wearing makeup in practice.

Once, I think I was in grade 8 or something, I decided I wanted to do something dramatic on my face, so I swept green eyeshadow across my eyelids in a style not unlike Mr. Spock’s. Several classmates told me that I was wearing too much makeup. I don’t know if they thought I had meant to create a more natural look and just screwed up, or if they just didn’t like how it looked and felt I needed to know that. Anyway, it bugged me. Thankfully, no one has ever made a comment about me having too much hair dye on when I made my hair green or blue or purple. Maybe things are different for hair and face. I’m not sure.

A few years after I stopped wearing makeup, I considered buying something really bold and bright, like a bright eyeliner or something, just to maybe wear on occasion when I felt like looking different. I walked back and forth in the makeup aisle of the drugstore several times, trying to decide if I should buy something or if it would just be a waste of money because I would hardly ever (never?) use it. In the end I decided not to buy any makeup, not so much because it would waste money, but because I didn’t want to support that industry. If makeup really existed to make people’s faces look exactly how they want them to look, like that Rookie post says it should, and if it were marketed that way, I might have bought something. But that’s not how makeup is advertised. Makeup companies make money by telling people (women) that they don’t look good enough on their own. And I hate that and I don’t want to support it, so I won’t, except when I did last month because I needed to dress the way I did in high school so I bought a black eyeliner for my goth look. I had fun wearing it but I didn’t like buying it.

I used to sometimes feel smug about my lack of makeup. I don’t really anymore because that’s obnoxious and I don’t judge people for doing what they need to do to survive and have fun in a patriarchal society. I have sometimes felt a bit betrayed when someone would tell me how amazingly attractive it was that I didn’t ever wear makeup, and then start dating someone totally glam who wore it all the time. But I think I’m over that too, because I’ve realized that we are all more than the stuff we put on our faces.

I know I have a lot of privilege in being able to not wear makeup. Like when I said earlier that I first stopped wearing makeup because I preferred how I looked without it? That isn’t a thing that is true about everyone. And I have a job where I’m taken seriously without having any makeup on. And my looks fall under the conventional definition of attractiveness enough that without makeup I think people still see me as conventionally attractive, and there are a lot of benefits that come with that. Also my eyelids are naturally darker than the rest of my face, so I kind of look like I have eyeshadow on all the time.

But when I’m tired, I look tired. When I have a zit, I look like I have a zit. When I’m pale, I’m pale. I don’t feel like I’m making a statement by not putting anything on my face to change how it looks. I might not feel this way if I had spent a larger part of my adult life wearing makeup regularly, but I guess I’ll never know. As it is, it just feels like being me when I drag myself out of bed, brush my teeth, get dressed, and maybe moisturize if my face is itchy. And that’s where I totally agree with Meredith who wrote that Rookie post:

It’s a question of agency and visibility. Exactly what makeup you wear and how and when is unimportant—the point is, it’s your choice. Now get out there and face the world.

Okay. But first it’s bed time.


Playing Springsteen in my head on a rooftop in Burnaby

Evening light

Evening light

The sunset here reminds me of last spring when I went to Edinburgh and climbed Arthur’s seat. I came back to Canada and I’m doing what I said I wanted to do, seeing more of the country, but I still wonder if I should have stayed in the UK longer.

setting sun

Setting sun

I miss the double decker busses and the trains out to Croydon. I miss the people I didn’t have time to really get to know. I miss the way they spoke, even if I sometimes didn’t understand it. I miss the place where I did yoga and I miss running along the Thames. I miss the late late summer sunsets and the fact that I didn’t need more than a light jacket from mid-February on. I’m glad I came home before my grandfather died, and I’m glad I had my family around me so we could try to climb our way out from under the pile of grief that landed on us (and then kept coming) together.

Sunsets are pretty even when you don't see the sun.

Sunsets are pretty even when you don’t see the sun.

It doesn’t look like I’ll move back to England any time soon. I don’t know for sure but at the moment I don’t feel it. Time to start looking for new adventures, I guess.

Bye, sun! Have fun on the other side of the world. See you tomorrow!

Bye, sun! Have fun on the other side of the world. See you tomorrow!


Homesick

Sometimes I miss taking the train to work.

Nicer than a subway tunnel.

Hour and a half journey, but I didn’t mind when it was pretty.

But then, sometimes Toronto looks like this.

London never did.

Fall is the prettiest.


Back to School

This time last year was the first back-to-school period that I remember when I didn’t actually go back to school. I’d been on the same yearly schedule for over 20 years, so it felt odd to spend my end of summer days packing for England and watching Buffy and Angel and figuring out how to ship my cat across the world.

Now I’m back in Toronto, back in my old routine, getting ready to go back to my old school. Everything feels mostly right, but just a little bit off. Things have changed and I’m used to change (I might not like it but it doesn’t usually surprise me), but they changed while I was away so I didn’t have a chance to get used to the changes themselves. Bloor Street has a barber shop called The Man Cave and Book City is empty and gone. The school that was going to become condos is now condos. It all just looks a little bit different. And I’ve changed. I pronounce the word “pardon” differently and I sometimes say that I’m not bothered instead of saying that I don’t care. Subway rides feel ridiculously short in this city. I rarely have time to settle into a book before I get to my stop. I don’t mind not having an hour and a half commute to and from work, but I already miss the view from the train and the company from the colleagues I’d meet up with at Clapham Junction. I don’t know if I made the right decision in coming back. I don’t know if I would have made the right decision if I had stayed. But I’m here, and I’m happy, and I’m excited to feel leaves crunch under my feet soon.


Writing Again

Well, as I kind of expected, I completely fell through on my plans to write something weekly. Or whatever that goal was. I have done a fair bit of writing in a notebook, but not much of that has made it onto this blog. I have a new project in mind, though, and I might post some of it here.

I’ve decided to take part in Teachers Write this year. I played around with it a few years ago, and then last year I left town and disconnected from the internet around the time it started, but this year I want to try to commit a little more fully. I know I’ll have a hard time since I also need to work full time and pack up my apartment, but writing makes me happier when I’m stressed, so I really plan to stick with it. I also plan to be a day behind. Since the main Teachers Write blog comes from the USA, and I’m in the UK, I won’t see the morning posts until I get home from work, and sometimes I know I’ll sometimes want to write in the mornings. So I might just shift everything back by a day. But I also don’t want to completely fall behind. It’s Monday, the first day of Teachers Write, and I don’t have time to do the mini-lesson before I need to go to sleep, but I will do this week’s Monday Morning Warm-Up. So here it is:

My Plan for Teachers Write, 2014.

I plan to write about my time teaching here, in London, and compare to my teaching from back home. It doesn’t feel like an exciting topic, and I feel annoyed with myself for not writing as much about what I saw throughout my time here, but I still want to get it down. My experience here has been so different from my teaching experience at home. I can’t say that teaching in England is drastically different from teaching in Canada. I’ve taught at one school in each country and I know that those schools don’t represent the entire country. But, oh my goodness, those two experiences have been so different from each other.

I want to write this story because I have strong feelings and ideas about teaching and what education should look like, and I’ve had to reassess and rework those feelings and ideas several times this year. I think the beauty of this story will be where I always find the beauty in stories about school. The beauty will be in the kids. The beauty will be in the ways I got to know them, the things they learned, the grown-up people I think they might turn into. And the beauty will also be somewhere inside me. It will be in the things I learned about myself and about teaching over here in this school system that’s completely different from the one I’m used to. It will be in the mistakes I made and, I hope, in the ways that those mistakes will make me a better teacher. It will be in my view through the window of the train I take every morning and evening, or through the top front window of a double decker bus when I manage to score a top front seat.

Because I want to write about real people and real schools, I don’t know how much I’ll end up posting here. I hope I can find some that are okay to share. Stories get a little bored and can turn into boring stories when they spend all of their time alone in a notebook.

So, that’s my plan for the next few weeks. I’m too tired to proofread this post. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find a few mistakes but for today, I think I’m just going to sign off. Goodnight!

 


Reading Toronto

I read Brown Girl in the Ring by Nalo Hopkinson a few weeks ago. I don’t know how to recommend it without sounding silly. It’s really good. It has so much action in it. About a quarter of the way in, I wondered why the author had gotten to the climax so early in the story, but then it just kept building. Every time I thought things would start to settle down and end, more action happened. And then more happened. I felt disappointed when I ran into someone I knew on the bus or the train on the way to work because it meant I couldn’t read. And the ending felt cathartic and open. Nothing got wrapped up too tidily. No cheesy epilogue explained how well (or how poorly) everything turned out. It ended with tragedy, but also with hope. And the prologue probably has the best description of Toronto I’ve ever read:

Imagine a cartwheel half-mired in muddy water, its hub just clearing the surface. The spokes are the satellite cities that form Metropolitan Toronto: Etobicoke and York to the west; North York in the north; Scarborough and East York to the east. The Toronto city core is the hub. The mud itself is vast Lake Ontario, which cuts Toronto off at its southern border.

That’s my city. A wheel sticking out of a murky puddle.

When I heard the Book City in the Annex was closing this spring, I got really sad. I won’t make it back there before it’s gone. I feel bad, because I prefer reading off my e-reader, and I buy a lot of my e-books through a major corporation that I don’t like supporting. I still like the feel of actual books, and I’ll miss going into Book City to pick them up, feel their covers, their pages, their weight. I used to buy books there all the time. I liked it better than the large Chapters (or Indigo or whatever) because I could see everything there at once. I liked it better than used bookstores for almost the same reason. I could find things in that Book City. And if I couldn’t find something, I could find a person to ask really easily, and I’d get a straight answer right away. If I could buy e-books at Book City I would, especially if it meant I got to go inside, walk around, and feel the physical copies first.

My city’s changing and I can’t see it. It might not turn into the dystopian version from Brown Girl in the Ring, but it’s still changing.


Ugh.

I really try to avoid writing clichés. I don’t like it when people roll their eyes at me and I don’t think I should say things that other people have said over and over again (unless it’s something really important that I think I need to repeat, but those aren’t really clichés). However, right now I need to write something that I see as a cliché in personal blogs.

This really sucks. I have to work myself up to actually say it.

I need to post more.

Ugh. It just sounds so disingenuous. If I actually thought I needed to post more, I would post more, right? Apparently not. I don’t know if posting that I need to post more will actually make me post more. It might just make me feel worse when I don’t follow through. But this is my second post in less than a week, so I should at least get part marks.

The worst is that I sometimes have an idea of something that I want to post, but then I just don’t do it. I don’t write it, and eventually enough time passes that I feel silly thinking about writing it. I have a post that I started writing a few days ago. I better post it soon before it gets stale. I’d do it now, but I wrote it up in a notebook and I can’t get at the notebook because I have a kitty on my lap. I can’t disturb this!

This is my excuse for not doing a lot of things.

I’m stuck.

Anyway, I’m gonna aim for at least one thing a week. Maybe more. We’ll see if I get anywhere close.