Music has always been a big part of my life. I tie major life events, feelings, and people to bands and songs I've listened to. I love how I can listen to a certain song and instantly be taken back to the place where I first connected with that song. Fleetwood Mac, Foo Fighters, Phoenix's Alphabetical, Snow Patrol's Final Straw and Hands Open, Imogen Heap's Speak for Yourself. They all contain music so raw if I listen to it completely unguarded it has the power to completely wreck me.

A couple days ago I was driving somewhere with some friends of mine and we put on an old 90's rock mix cd. All the Small Things by Blink 182 came on, and it hit me like a ton of bricks, but not in the usual way music hits me. Instead of taking me back to a past filled with longing and nostalgia, upon listening I was filled with a sudden strong urge to rip the cd out of the player and chuck the cd out the window. It occured to me I have absolutely no use for Blink 182's music anymore. I have no desire to daydream about that time in my life (not that it was terribly bad or boring or anything, really), and definitely not any desire to break out my old mixes from that time.

But I didn't eject the cd. I didn't even ask the person riding shotgun to change the song. Instead I stared out the window and listened, quietly singing a couple lines here and there. Why did I do that? I knew as soon as the song played I didn't want to listen to it. But when we got in the car the other two remarked on how hilarious the cd was, so of course we played it, and listened to these songs that were the soundtrack to our high school experiences. And for some reason, I went along with it.

I don't mean to insult anyone if you do happen to like Blink 182. I don't judge you or anything. It just so happened that that song was the first time I am actually capable of completely outgrowing music. I didn't think I ever would.

This Monday Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi were on Oprah promoting the December issue of O magazine, the cover of which Ellen pretty much nagged her way onto. Now, I really love Ellen. And it's not just because her show is funny, or her hair is freaking amazing is it's dyke-tasticness (seriously, it's so gorgeous!), or even her hilarious and inspiring convocation speech at Tulane last year. All those things are great in their own right, but I love Ellen for yet another reason.

She makes me happy with myself, and unafraid to be who I am. And she leads by example.

She's become more and more open about her life's journey, especially the fallout from her coming out including no one really telling her when her show got cancelled (her assistant was the one to tell her), and then being essentially black-listed from the entertainment industry. No one called her for three years! And all because she decided it was time to stop hiding parts of herself. And yet, she has stated more than once that she wouldn't take back that time in her life, because it afforded her an immense amount of soul searching and allowed her to discover who she really was. And now? She's one of the most open and honest people I've ever seen in that industry. It's like someone who's walked through fire and now has no fear about being a fireman, constantly running in and out of burning buildings. She's been through her trials, and now she's unafraid. Not shameful. Proud.

But it's not her success, or even her happiness, that inspire me most. It's her honesty, and her optimism in spite of going through incredibly hard times. Her total happiness when she sees her wife, and both of their lack of fear about showing it in public. Every time they show affection to each other on a talk show or at an award ceremony, I get a little more hopeful that one day that won't be a big deal.

Ellen makes me want to take off my own shield. In living her own life she shows me how liberating it can be to bear it all for anyone to see. No, not everyone will like you, but not everyone will like you even with the fronts and facades, so why not be exactly who you are? At least then you'll be happy and free.

As a queer person, a woman, a white person, a child of a "broken" home (wretch!), a raised Catholic, a former high school band and choir member, even a person who went to a predominantly scientific university for my arts degree, I often feel a lot of pressure to act according to what people expect from me. But every time I hear Ellen talk about her life, I'm reminded that I don't need to let anything dictate who I am or how I want to act. I can date who I want, act as feminine or masculine as I want, be as well-adjusted as I am, have whatever beliefs I want, and so what if someone doesn't like it? Someone else isn't me. And my life is for me to live, no one else.

So thank-you, Ellen. For, time and time again, reminding me that I am simply me, and I shouldn't be afraid or feel pressured to hide myself from others.



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this entry is for week four of therealljidol
thanks for reading! and if you liked my entry, please vote!

You know what I hate? Like really, really, I-hope-this-doesn't-continue-to-happen hate? When you're mad, and I'm talking pretty much completely livid, and someone makes you smile. Don't they realize you want to be left alone with your anger?? Can't they visibly see the steam coming out of your ears? You would think the muttering and stamping and throwing of things and black cloud following you around would be enough notice. But no, some people just have to get in there and, in some sneaky way, literally turn that frown upside down. I hate that.

My brother has some kind of amazing talent for it.

I can't even count the amount of times in my adolescence I would get angry over something and just want to be left alone to let the feelings dissipate only to be confronted with my stupid, goofy older brother being his regular half-enearing, half-annoying self. He would poke me, pick my nose, do silly voices, anything it took to bring me to a breaking point. It felt like torture, when really it was torture in reverse, I guess. I don't know why, but all I ever wanted to do was hold onto the anger just a little longer and I hated that he wouldn't let me.

I guess I needed to learn that it's ok to let go of your anger quickly. It might actually be a good thing!

But don't tell that to me when I'm mad. Getting that smile is a really hard sell, and you probably won't get a thank-you from me afterward. But I suppose that's never really the point.

So last winter I read this really fantastic book by Ariel Levy called Female Chauvinist Pigs. I know, right? That title is a little jarring, innit? I actually knew about the book for about a year before I got the gumption to pick up the book in the (oh em gee!) feminism section of my local library without feeling like I was going to be looked at weird or exposed as some sort of radical bra-burning feminist. Heaven forbid!

But I got the gumption, I took the book out, and read it. And let me tell you, if I thought I might have been a feminist before this book, I can now say I definitely am. But let me explain, because making a statement like that is a bit of an uphill battle. There have been two documented waves of feminism so far, and I would argue there is a third one happening right now, though not really as big or as publicized as the first two. So when I say I'm a feminist I don't mean I'm some suffragette fighting for basic rights, nor am I a pageant-protesting, march-going, sign-waving second wave feminist fighting for the right to wear Birkenstocks in the supermarket and pants in the workplace. No, my particular brand of feminism is a quieter one, more internalized and played out in the conversations I have and the way I treat people, of any gender. Instead of refusing to wear make-up and making public declarations of my frustration with 'the system' I choose instead to embrace my femininity (fun eyeshadows included) and engage in lively (and fun!) debate with people I know and come in contact with, pushing their ideas of what feminism is and what a feminist looks like.

Sadly, this does not compute with some people. How can I call myself a feminist if I still adhere to male dominated notions of femininity and beauty? How can I be a so-called feminist and still claim to love men; isn't feminism all about male-bashing? You can't have it both ways, you know! You're either a feminist or you're not!

Yes, I love wearing skirts, dresses, and make-up, but I also relish the fact that wearing those items is my choice. I'm eternally grateful to second wave feminists who brought up these issues and didn't let them die until it was acceptable for a girl to wear pants to school without being sent home. It's because of those women that I can wear pants or a skirt or gold lamé leggings. I can wear a frilly skirt or a pantsuit to work and still be treated as someone worthwhile and worthy of the job I hold.

Yes, I love men, and women, and bois and queens and anything else someone wants to be. Being a feminist doesn't mean hating other genders, it simply means seeing the worth in a historically neglected half of the population, and wanting those of us who happen to have a vagina, or breasts, or feel in our core that we are female, to be treated with the respect and dignity we deserve. There is no 'but' statement that comes after. It's not 'we want justice'! It's not 'women first, men second; it's time for them to know how the backseat feels'! No, that's not it at all. It's simply 'how about we share that front seat?'

So yes, I am a feminist. And a female. And I won't be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen any time soon, thank-you very much.

Unless I choose to be, that is, and isn't great that I have the choice?

When I was a little kid, maybe 3 or 4 years old, my older brothers created a magic show, and put it on for my mom and I. Being 8 and 10 years old, they were obviously the smartest people ever, and were to be, of course, completely trusted in every instance.

Their show was pretty simple, but it's the simplicity that made it amazing. They brought in a little card table with a long tablecloth on it, and one of my brothers got underneath the table while the other spoke the magic words. 'Abra cadabra', 'hocus pocus', 'bibbity bobbity boo'! And, with a proud smile on his face, my one brother would lift up the tablecloth to show how those magic words had made my other brother completely vanish before our eyes.

My mouth hung open. I was dumbfounded. Enamoured. Shocked! I wanted to look for my brother, to find him and ask him where he went, but before I could get up my brother dropped the tablecloth again, repeated the magic words, and my other brother jumped out from under the table with this utterly triumphant look on his face. As that point I couldn't take it anymore. 'I WANT A TURN!!!' I yelled at the top of my lungs and ran under the table, sat cross-legged, grinning at my brothers, ready to disappear.

Being the charming, caring brothers they were, they shared a conspiratorial smile (that I must have missed in my excitement) and agreed to 'disappear me'. They lowered the table cloth, spoke the magic words, and I sat beneath the table, still grinning and laughing to myself when they lifted the cloth up again with me still sitting there.

I peered out, looking at my mom and brothers, seeing them look at me (or under the table in general, I thought) and, after a long pause, I asked,

"Am I disappeared yet??"

Laughter erupted from my brothers, who were so proud at being able to pull such a trick on their little sister right in front of their mother, and my mom reluctantly laughed as well, probably more at my cuteness than at the trick being played. Still, it took me a couple minutes to realize the trick hadn't worked! I thought if I believed enough in the magic words I would disappear, and even though I was still technically sitting under the table, no one would be able to see me.

I still, to this day, think if I had just believed in those words, enough to compensate for my brothers' dubiousness, I would have disappeared that day, and their words wouldn't have been empty gestures.

So! Lesson one, post an introduction. Great. But where to start? I honestly have no idea. I'm not really someone who gravitates toward doing things in the simplest way possible, so I'm not going to give you a chronological life story. I don't trust my memory to know all the things I should (and would want to) mention, so keep in mind that anything I say here is kind of the tip of the iceberg. But I'm sure you knew that already, since most people on LJ nowadays are really blog-savvy.

So! Who am I, really (besides someone who says 'so' a lot)?

Well, I'm Meg. I used to be maggieoshannon on lj until this spring, when I finally got tired of having a username that resembled my name so much and decided to change it to something with a little more anonymity to it. So I chose bakerlooline after my favourite subway line in my favourite city, London. I lived there for four months in 2007 and have been a huge anglophile every since.

I suppose for those of you who like hard facts I can tell you that I'm 25, Canadian, and currently working on a post-grad diploma in arts management, which is basically learning how to manage and run arts organizations (think theatres, galleries, arts councils...). I'm a long time lover of the arts so this feels like a good step for me. I have a degree in English and theatre from the University of Guelph. 

Hmmmm what else? Well, I'm a really friendly, fairly easy-going person. I like getting into some of those deeper discussions (as long as every stays sane and doesn't get too uppity) but I don't like talking much about politics or political hot topics like abortion. I love to travel and am constantly getting restless staying in one place. I'm very proud to be Canadian. I don't really write fiction and I certainly don't make graphics or RP, which sometimes makes me wonder what I'm doing spending so much time on a site like LJ. But here I am, and have been since the end of 2003.

I often vacillate between thinking I'm a pretty cool and unique person and thinking I'm the most average, run-of-the-mill girl you'll ever meet. I'm probably somewhere in between.

Enjoy, and welcome to my journal!

So uh, remember that time I tried to write here every day? That obviously didn't work. Oops. But I've been busy with legit things! Like school things and friend things and family things and SKINS things and and and. But I'm back now, and to prove (and pretty much MAKE myself write more) I (possibly foolishly?) signed up for therealljidol . Three people on my flist are already doing it, and once I figured out it was writing but not writing fiction, I decided what the hell? It'll be a little weird making public posts again, but I'm my little closet exhibitionist self will get over it.

In other news, I'm home for a week!! I have a Thanksgiving break at this weird school, but I'm not complaining! I'm soaking up the relaxation and contentment of being in a city I actually feel completely comfortable in.

I saw Whip It in theatres a couple nights ago. Ellen Page is completely cute in her badass roller derby-ing way, and I was actually kind of struck by how pretty (and talented) Kristen Wiig is! I mean, I always knew she was freaking hilarious, but up until Whip It I only payed attention to the laughs she was giving, not her pretty pretty eyes and hair. So that was a nice surprise. And, as always, it was nice seeing Drew be cute up there. I love that girl.

One more thing... I've been thinking of dying my hair lately. Red. Like, really red. But not Ronald McDonald red. Kind of like Emily Fitch red, but not even THAT bright. What do y'all think? Can I pull it off? Would that just be weird? Basically I'm getting antsy with my hair because it's boring now but I want to grow it out a little longer before I get it cut. There's a cut I've been wanting to get for a while now but the last couple times I've gotten impatient and cut it before it was the length I need for it. So. Thoughts please!

This weekend was pretty fab. I went into Toronto (AGAIN, I know. it's starting get old, non?) and saw Jason Mraz in concert with my brother, his girlfriend, and trenny . It was SO. GOOD! I've been a fan of Mraz since about 2003 so it was amazing to finally get to see him in concert. I was a little nervous about it because I tend to like his earlier stuff more than the stuff on his most recent album, but it was such a good show. Lots of dancing, singing along, and watching him move his hips with surprising ease and skill. Who knew??

On Sunday I went to Guelph spontaneously to have sushi and see people. We ate SO much food, it was kind of gross. Really good food though, I'd like to go back there. Especially for dinner because they don't serve sashimi on their lunch menu and that's pretty much my fave part of sushi. Yum! Raw fish!

I started packing this week. Eep. I haven't really given a lot of thought about what I will and won't bring to London. I've just been defaulting to 'everything' but now that I'm actually in the packing process I realize that I'll be moving into a room roughly the same size as the one I have now (though, sadly, with a much smaller closet) and there is already too much stuff in my bedroom here. You do the math. So what to take/what to leave? My dvds will come, but my VHSs will stay. I'll bring only the books I actually want to read in the next year or will use for school. I'm not bringing my tv or dvd player, I can use my laptop for that. But what about clothes? Where will I put it all? I'm stressing over that above everything else I think. I need storage!!

My mom and I are going shopping today for stuff though, so that will hopefully take the edge off. I move on Labour Day. I only have to wait a little longer to get there and get living! Does anyone else get antsy like that? When I get close to a big change like this I start getting anxious about the change and settling into a new life and all that.

In other, completely unrelated news, I think I'm going to do a big overhaul of my icons. There is a certain style of icon that I've always admired but never use and today I thought 'why not? seriously, your journal is totally yours, use what you want!'. I get caught up sometimes in matching my journal as closely to me as possible, but that doesn't really need to happen, amirite? It can be a projection of what I want to see and be seen as too, right? That's what I think at least.

Oh, and hello to my new eljay frahnds! Word up!