Preview

Here is a preview of what (if everything goes well) will be published in the up coming edition of "blueprint", Laurier's campus magazine.

Learning To See
The expression on Brad’s face quickly turned into one of sadness and pain. The wrinkles on face and the look in his eyes showed that Brad had been through more than his fair share of rejection and pain in his life, and the question I just asked was making him relive hard memories. Brad had just finished telling me about his childhood and his days in the Yugoslav army. Born and raised in Yugoslavia, Brad was proud to fight for Tito and communism. “In those days” he said, “we felt like we were actually living for something, together we were fighting for a better life” Then, I asked him why he came to Canada. And with the look of sadness and pain in his face, Brad vaguely replied that he came to escape the ethnic violence that was tearing apart his country. But what Brad found in Canada was not much better than the world he had just left. Shortly after Brad came to Canada he started suffering from what was later diagnosed as schizophrenia. His disease prevented Brad from being able to maintain employment, or establish a solid foothold for himself in Canadian society. His schizophrenia and lack of social supports left him to weather a spiritually and sexually abusive church leader, the chaos of our under-funded dysfunctional mental health care system, the nearly non-existent social support programs of Ontario and finally the streets of Kitchener. By the time I had started talking with Brad, he had been in Canada for more than 15 years. In the two years that have passed since I met Brad I’ve learned many things. I learned that the values of democracy, freedom and individual rights that our politicians proudly proclaim had done little for him. Brad has an experience of life that is very rarely engaged in academia, in politics, in business or in any consign of power in our country. As I’ve gotten to know Brad and his life, I’ve realized that he and his story is one that carries great lessons for us to learn. But unfortunately, Brad and his story are inevitably left out of the narrative most Canadians live their lives in. I think that this fact might be ok, if Brad’s story was completely unique; a rare exception. But I have discovered through my experiences of people whom I met at St. John’s Kitchen, in Vancouver’s downtown eastside and in poor areas of Scarborough that this is simply not the case. The stories of the forgotten, of the poor, oppressed, afflicted, lonely and the broken leave me with the burning question of, How do I honour these? Even worse, the friendships I’ve formed with Brad and a few others in Kitchener have forced me to examine what it means to love “the other”. You see, increasing the Ontario Works and ODSP rates may help, but what Brad needs is people who willing to take a risk in being in relationship with him. Not just psychiatrists, social workers or nurses, but rather people who just want to be friends and are willing to endure all the shit that friendship entails, its really just people who are simply willing to remember Brad and his story as they live their lives. That idea is new and revolutionary and the great thing about it is that its not a hopeless one. It’s simply a fuller expression of what it means to be human. There is no bureaucracy to navigate, no tuition dollars to pay, or quorum needed, all that’s needed is a willingness to meet someone and hear something new.

Drink Up, Dreamers, You're Running Out of Time

I have 4 days left of work, before another summer or work is over, and another few thousand dollars is made. In many ways this summer has been my hardest summer yet, but I've also seen fruitfulness and faithfulness in areas I would least expect. I come out of this summer understanding myself in a much more comprehensive way. I have learned that I am a pessimist and for some reason I like being one. I find it very very hard to have a bright outlook on the future, and will often downplay the importance of the good things in my life. However despite this, I have grown in self-esteem, I didn't suffer the huge lapse in it that I suffered last year. I do my job with the knowledge that I am as capable as anyone else in the factory. And I have come to see myself as a significant part of factory life for my co-workers. This summer has confirmed how fragile my mental stability is. If I was stuck in the situation I find myself in during the summer, I know I would not be able to survive. There is little to engage me and I end up just being tired all the time with no motivation. But, interspersed amongst this constant lies a few moments/days where I find relaxation, meaning and/or joy to an extent that I rarely experience during the rest of the year. 4 more days.

In This Life

The strong will survive, the weak shall perish
Y'all need more courage, I
keep y'all nourished
Get in line, I let you know right now
You need to slow right down or you get blown right now
From what I see it's systematic how we push to addicts
Demographics make the street life hell or drastic
In the hood we see oppressive genocide
Cause if it's on it's on, you know at least 10 men'll ride
But on the other side, corruption runs deep
I'm aware of the conspiricies, discussion is brief
They're building more prisons, spendin less on schools
On the block Smith & Wess-ons and Teflons rule
It's hard to escape it, certain laws are sacred
In this life my friend, it's mad hard to make it

Systems Breakdown

When pieces of machinery start falling out of your loading machine, you may be running into problems as I discovered yesterday. I was innocently loading Hela Phos into the loading machine when a bolt and the thread it was on decided to come rolling out where the belt is. I shut down the machine and called over Tim, and the usual volley of swear words followed. In the end the machine had to be shut down for repairs and I had to screen all the materials into the bin by hand. This may have been bad news, but I like overtime so it worked out well. The other thing I learned that day, is that when the floors get really wet from the night shift guys washing the machines, it may be fun to slide around and do cool donuts in your 2-ton forklift, but it can also be potentially dangerous to the people and objects around you.

Morning Blessings

Somewhat of a tradition has formed over at Herman Laue Spice Company. Every morning, Loading Station 1 (the station I operate) has blessings said over it by a number of people. They generally start with me when I arrive in the morning to find the machine completely dismantled and I have to put it together. Generally I mutter them, but they get louder when I can assemble the machine, because generally it takes two people, although I have done it by myself before. Then I can over Adrian, who is somewhat skilled in assembling these things. When we can mount the sieve, he too gives blessings to the machine, and but his are usually a little more explicit and said at a regular voice decible level. Eventually he gives up, and with a final blessing leaves and says "call Tim". I call Tim over, and when he sees the state of the machine he yells his blessings so that the whole mix room can here them. Sometimes a few kicks to the machine ensue. Then he and I set about trying to assemble the machine, all they while he yells his blessings to the machine, and the occasional ones to the night shift guys who disassemble the machine to clean it. (We have a suspicion that one the night shift guys wants to work in a mine, and is trying out his sledgehammer skills on the machine). Generally after some trying, and some more creative blessings given by Tim, the sieve is mounted. However, when Tim tries to put the wing-nuts on, and he can't because they are really stripped, more blessings flow from his mouth, and then some are muttered at John the mechanic. In a few situations, John the resident mechanice is called in, where he too gives his blessings. John says his blessings in a low tone, and he usually looks at the ground when he says them. And then he leaves to get his tools. So after a 45 minute blessing of the machine by up to 4 different people, and the occasional passer-by who sees what we are attempting to do. The blessed machine is ready to work for the day, and await further blessings the next morning, or sometimes it becomes impatient and decides to stop working half-way through the day.

Magic

There's something when guys get around a campfire, and there's beer and other munchies. It's really nice. Doesn't happen much at Laurier.

Workplace Injuries

I get into weird states at work where I welcome pain. Its kinda weird, but its like this recklessness where I don't really care if what I'm doing will hurt me or not. Most of the time I don't get injured but inevitably I do end up and getting injured and regret it when I feel bad that night, but the next day I'm right back into that state again. In the state pain feels good, because its feeling, instead of the mindless work I do all day long. None-the-less, I've come to the conclusion that injurying myself (even if it isn't totally on purpose) is not a good thing, so I'm more aware when I get in these states and try me best to endure them without further injury. My left hand has endured the brunt of work place injury. It has a puncture wound on its left side from when i hit it hard on a sharp metal object, (it has since become infected), it also has to scrapes there as well. My pointer finger is really hurting after I mashed with a mallet on thursday, and lastly my thumb (as pictured above), has a nice deep slice wound to it, after I had a mis-hap with an exacto knife. When I cut it, I stared at it in mild amusement for a while, then reality hit, i said a few explatives, then waited for some alot of blood to come out before I went to get some first aid, so I could impress Brenda with how I was able conduct myself with such calmness in the face of such an injury (the first aid station is by her)