tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79374036061801286522024-03-13T09:27:38.390-06:00today, in my teenage angst . . .The days of teenage status are gone. The angst however remains. Do we ever really let it go?Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.comBlogger381125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-55626988094782810712015-08-08T13:10:00.001-06:002015-08-08T13:10:07.317-06:00Movies That Make Me Cry Without Meaning To: Argo.When Argo won Best Picture in February 2013, I hadn't seen it. I wasn't very good at watching Best Picture nominees beforehand, so when they won, I didn't know how grateful I would be for the recognition of the film's importance.<br />
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If you haven't seen it, (SPOILERS) the movie opens with a pictoral telling of the social and political history of Iran in the 20th and 21st centuries. If you don't know the social and political history of Iran, you'll learn from this that their recent history is a giant, western, bummer. It is this brilliant prologue that really sets the stage for an empathetic, and somewhat inaccurate, though very compelling, account of this true event.<br />
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This movie does not take its time. Within the first ten minutes, Iranian protesters have invaded the US Embassy and have taken several hostages. Six embassy workers have made it out and taken refuge in the home of the Canadian Embassador and his super cool wife. Also, holla out to Ben Affleck and his casting directors for choosing a Canadian to play that role. Victor Garber is a Canadian treasure that I am in love with.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image <a href="http://www.ew.com/article/2013/02/18/argo-and-zero-dark-thirty-claim-writers-guild-awards">via</a></td></tr>
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Most of the rest of the movie is a very entertaining telling of how Ben Affleck got to Iran on government falsified documents, ready to make a bogus film with his 'crew' that had 'arrived two days before he had'. His interaction with them is from where most of my emotions stem. Up until this point, what we had seen of the hostages was them having political debates around the dinner table drinking wine and having a seemingly legit good time. There was a tense moment when Jimmy Cooper (from the OC guys, that's not his character name) stepped outside for a cig. "I was only out there for three minutes," he said defensively. Other hostage looks at him sternly, "it only takes one for someone to see you." Until Ben arrives, you don't fully understand the gravity of their situation. If they are found, they will be killed. There is no foreseeable end to this situation. They could be in that apartment for another three years.<br />
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Amid the anxiety of their impending doom, the group decides to go ahead with Ben's plan. They will adopt new identities, adjust their current appearances, and aim to make it through airport security. Things start to fall apart when it's realized that their paperwork doesn't quite match up. The group is interrogated for several minutes overlapping with their boarding time. Through an act of sheer brilliance, one of the hostages explains to the security guards - in Persian - the plot of the movie, after which they are let through to board the play. This act has always emphasized the reality that there is no replacement for first language communication when entering someone else's country and culture.<br />
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They board the plane and take off, anxiously awaiting their entrance into International Air. The seatbelt light goes off, and the flight attendant announces that the beverage cart will soon be making its way around. The hostages celebrate. They are free. They are safe. They have made it. It's with this celebration that my tears being to flow.<br />
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I cannot express to you how safe my life has been. This isn't surprising; I grew up in North America. While I went through a period of fairly constant and paralyzing fear when I was twelve, it wasn't because I was in actual danger. The greatest thing about this movie is that it presents the Iranian/US tension in such a way that you don't see the invasion of the embassy as an act of terror or rebellion. Rather, it seems almost necessary. While we empathize with the embassy workers, the Iranians are not vilified. You can argue against that if you'd like. As I watch the celebration of safety and freedom on the plane, I am awestruck by how I've never felt that. You live with something forever and it starts to feel like a right. And while I know enough to know that I live in a sort of safety exception, not a safety norm, Argo brings to light the anxiety, stress, and lack of calm that go along with living in constant fear.<br />
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Despite all its inaccuracies and controversies, this movie made me better. So thanks, Ben. (Amy Schumer flirty face) I love you.Hannah Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503316416952408777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-37379713163028741312015-08-01T11:12:00.000-06:002015-08-03T21:17:03.093-06:00Movies That Make Me Cry Without Meaning To: Signs. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image <a href="http://basementrejects.com/review/signs-2002/">via</a></td></tr>
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Today in my teenage angst, I cry. A lot. Not typically about myself, or on my behalf. If I cry about myself it's because I'm stressed, and I'm very tired; but not because anything bad is actually happening.<br />
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I relate really closely to the premise of Inside Out. My emotions are big, and individual, and identifyable, and I feel them; all the time. Because of the size and individuality of my emotions, I connect to emotional narratives really easily. Everything makes me cry. And I'm not sorry about this. Things are meaningful, guys. But not always in the way I expect them to be.<br />
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A lot of movies are made to entice emotion out of the viewers. Others are not. For me, this doesn't seem to matter. I cry in a lot of movies that don't necessarily warrant it. The emotional expense, though, warrants me telling you about it. </div>
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I love M. Night Shyamalan so much. I think he presents aspects of the human experience in such a novel way. I totally get that people don't like it. I get it. But if you set aside the fantastical elements, and look at the deeper message, and the unique method of communicating that message, you can't deny the film's value. If you want to talk more about this, because you haven't noticed the underlying messages of The Village or Unbreakable, you just let me know.</div>
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So anyway, I'm sitting at home a few weeks ago on a Friday night and trying to decide whether to watch <i>Signs</i>, a movie I love and haven't recently seen, or <i>Center Stage,</i> a movie I love and haven't recently seen. I went with <i>Signs</i>. I was in an M. Night mood, and <i>Signs </i>is just so good.<br />
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Mel Gibson (Graham), a minister who has recently renounced his faith, is dealing with the loss of his wife (Colleen). More specifically, this man, whose profession was faith, is wrestling with the meaninglessness of his wife's death and what that means for the rest of his life, how he raises his children, and how he approaches big existential questions. Questions like, what does an alien invasion mean for us and our world? Joaquin (Merrill) has come to live with Graham and help raise his children, played by Rory Culkin (Morgan) and Abilgail Breslin (Bo). As an aside this lead cast's chemistry is out of control.<br />
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If you haven't seen this movie in a while, here are some points to remember. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">If anyone complains about spoilers, please realize that this movie is thirteen years old and you need to get your life together.</span> Morgan has asthma, Merrill is a failed minor league baseball player, Bo has this weird neurosis where she won't ever drink a full glass of water, but also won't pour out any of her mostly full glasses, and Colleen's last words to Graham were, "swing away." Come to the end of this narrative, the family comes out of hiding in their basement, assuming the alien invasion to have passed. They quickly discover the invasion hasn't passed, but an alien is holding Morgan poised to inject him with whatever toxic substance this particular alien-imagining is known for. The family freezes, trying not to react, and Graham, remember his wife's last words, looks at Merrill - standing beside his record- (and heart breaking) bat, and says, "Merril. Swing away." Merrill looks at his bat and reaches up, removing it from its stand. He steps forward and takes a strong swing at the alien, who angrily recoils, shooting his poison into Morgan's airway. Amid his swinging, Merrill hits one of Bo's many glasses of water that have been left around the living room. The water burns the alien like acid. Merrill pauses and survey's the number of glasses around the room and plans his new water based attack. After being burned a number of times the alien drops Morgan, who is quickly retrieved and rushed out of the house. Graham cries out for Morgan to wake up, all the while praising God that his son has asthma. His lungs had closed in a parasympathetic fear response. He had not ingested the alien's poison, and is revived.<br />
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It was a little before this point that I had started to cry<span style="text-align: center;">. This 'cry' quickly turned to a sob, as Graham came to understand the providence of everything that had just happened. All of these stupid, painful details of their lives had come together to save them from this unimaginable, unforeseeable event. In this moment, Graham comes to see his faith, once again, as valuable.</span><br />
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I'm almost thirty. I, for the most part, do not know what I'm doing. Days are long, but weeks are fast. I'm constantly waiting; largely for what feels like nothing. The faith I've held since I was small, requires much more energy that I have to maintain. I'm just tired. As I watched Graham remember the value of his faith, I remembered the value of mine. My faith, no matter how old, is steady, and reliable. My energy conserve, or adulthood oriented skills don't affect that.<br />
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To whatever your faith belongs, whether its God, or goodness, or grace, or the Green Bay Packers, it has value. It has life. And so do you. </div>
Hannah Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503316416952408777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-70866055147566044052015-06-10T22:51:00.000-06:002015-06-10T22:51:15.773-06:00Swing.Today in my teenage angst, things are harder as an adult.<br />
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My little friend Hayleigh came over - before her family moved to Saudi Arabia <sob> (also, did you know that you cannot just <i>go</i> to Saudi Arabia?) - and we went to the park behind my house. I plopped her in the kiddie swing and we swung. I swung. I employed all of the regular moves that one uses when swinging - legs out going foward, legs in going backward. It was glorious. And then I got to that height. Everyone knows that height. It's the height where you're suspended for one quarter of a second and you get that sense of flying.<br />
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When I was younger, this moment of suspension was the only point in swinging. Unless you were like, just hanging out on the swings and talking or whatever. You got on your favorite swing (the farther toward the center the better), and raced whoever was sitting next to you, to the top; the top of your swinging ability. Thinking about it now, I'm quite honestly not sure why swinging is allowed, considering the lack of safety. I want to tell you about the time that my classmate in the fifth grade fell off of the swings at a considerable height and broke both of her wrists and her nose, but I wont. It was the most dramatic thing of my life, but I'm not going into it.<br />
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Does anyone remember that episode of recess when that girl swings all the way over the bar and they all have an existential crisis? I found it on YouTube, because YouTube is the best thing that has ever happened to the world. If you can spare the ten minutes, please watch it.<br />
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The idea, especially in terms of this episode, is that swinging brings a sort of religious elation that made us feel like nothing we have ever experienced before, or will experience anywhere else.<br />
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Swinging as an adult - at least as this adult - is not a religious experience. It's actually more of a threatening death-like experience. Swinging next to Hayleigh, I got to that height and a horrible chill went through my body saying, unmistakably, stop it. This is no longer for you. You've been through things, now. You'll be through more things. Why not try swinging in smaller increments? It's still fun. But we've done this. Let's not do it anymore. I stopped and said to Hayleigh, "Swinging is harder as an adult." She didn't respond.<br />
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I turn twenty-eight tomorrow (or today if you don't read this the minute I post it), and I've been telling people for a long time that I can't wait to be thirty; and I can't. Everyone knows, your thirties are way better than your twenties (read that sarcastically, I beg of you). As I feel these little moments of removal from my youth - despite my general emotional state - I'm brought to a new realization. The farther I get from the difficulty of my youth, the more childhood joys I leave behind. I'm forever looking forward, and I don't feel guilty about that. There's a reason we need to <i>remind</i> ourselves to live in the moment. It's just not that natural. In all of my looking forward and continuous anticipation of what's to come, it's hard not to feel tiny bits of loss. I think that's healthy, but it makes me feel old. Like I'm suddenly old enough to reflect on what was.<br />
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Yikes.Hannah Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503316416952408777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-13506615145095138612015-05-18T10:00:00.002-06:002015-05-18T10:00:43.198-06:00Ottawa Travelogue: Wandering.I've hit ten thousand steps on my fitbit before 3pm three days in a row now. Ottawa is a really great city to wander. We've obviously been wandering with purpose, but it's been in neighborhoods that I wouldn't have necessarily anticipated or gone to with intention.<br />
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Here is the photo evidence of that.<br />
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You should all plan to make a journey here. Totally worth it.Hannah Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503316416952408777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-85640722482607401032015-05-15T11:43:00.003-06:002015-05-15T11:43:44.901-06:00Ottawa Travelogue: Matthew House.I slept in very deeply this morning. Like until eleven. To be fair, I'm two hours ahead of myself, so it was really only nine. Kailee and I agreed that I wouldn't go to work with her in the morning, so I just stayed in bed forever and didn't feel even a little bad about it.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0slXg7FT-mk/VVYv-4y7EII/AAAAAAAABBc/AIzOPifnXkA/s1600/Matthew%2BHouse1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0slXg7FT-mk/VVYv-4y7EII/AAAAAAAABBc/AIzOPifnXkA/s320/Matthew%2BHouse1.JPG" width="240" /></a>I spent the day at Matthew House. Let me explain to you the glory of what takes place at Matthew House. Say you wake up, every day, in a country in which you are not safe, and can likely never become safe. Say you want to leave that country. How are you going leave? Do you have the money to leave? Where will you go when you leave? To whom will you go to when you leave? Now say you develop a plan that answers all or most of these questions. You get your papers, you get on the plane, you fly to the country you now understand to be safe, and you hope to God on high you don't get sent home. Now say you're lucky enough to speak the language in the country where you've landed. You ask around. Where do you go? You might know enough to know that there are people essentially waiting to help you wade through the process of immigration. But do you know that there is a non-govermental organization that will house and feed you as you go through that process? Well you do now. It's called Matthew House.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f4XToZT_fvM/VVYwD8mIBWI/AAAAAAAABBk/02SYUXLZtcM/s1600/Matthew%2BHouse%2B2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f4XToZT_fvM/VVYwD8mIBWI/AAAAAAAABBk/02SYUXLZtcM/s320/Matthew%2BHouse%2B2.JPG" width="240" /></a>Today I met people from Somalia, Haitii, and the Congo. I watched as Kailee encouraged people through their first meetings with their lawyers. I listened to a man tell me how hard he is going to try to become a Canadian citizen and how much he would like to study psychology. I saw two women arrive at the house, seeking asylum, overwhelmed by their (incredibly) recent arrival in Canada, and their hope for what might come next.<br />
<br />
In case you're wondering, or you just don't know, the legal definition of a refugee is someone who has a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership to a particular social group or dpolitical opinion, and having left the country of their nationality is unable and unwilling avail their self to the protection of their country. Entering into the process of becoming a refugee is not a light or easy decision. It is a committment. <br />
<br />
Nothing affirms for me the ease of my political and governmental situation more than spending time with refugees, who despite the unsettled nature of their situation and the length of their legal process are hopeful beyond hope, and grateful beyond grate. . .<br />
<br />
Stay tuned for day two. Hannah Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503316416952408777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-57493410315096289542015-05-13T16:02:00.000-06:002015-05-13T16:02:02.550-06:00Ottawa Travelogue.<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I
tell a lot of people that I’m not a traveller. I say that because I haven’t
really done any travelling, and I don’t really care about doing any. There are
places I would like to spend some time, but nothing I really want to see. There
are cultures I would like to engage with, but considering I live in Canada, I
can pretty much do that here. Feats of man, such as the Great Wall, or Easter
Island, I can study in a satisfying manner through literature. The Internet is
pretty legit these days. While I don’t really possess any sort of travel bug,
if people that I love and care to keep in physical contact with, end up
anywhere for an extended period of time, I will go there. It is for this reason
that I find myself in the air, on the way to Ottawa for the second time in two
years. It’s going to be a yearly thing. At the end of my last visit, when
Kailee was still planning to return to Moose Jaw, I told her that if she
stayed, I would come back to visit her. The next day she was offered a job, and
here I am.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ottawa
is one of those cities that is epically ordinary, and like nothing you’ve ever
seen, all at the same time. For Kailee, her original move resulted in the
development of a small world centered on her school, work, and volunteer opportunities.
My first visit included only small departures from that world. Our time was
largely spent with her roommates and friends, watching the Olympics, and
napping. It was perfect. The one day we spent downtown in and around the
Parliament Building, and along the <a href="https://www.google.ca/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=3&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CDEQFjAC&url=http%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FRideau_Canal&ei=j8lTVbXwBYGuyATaiIGgDA&usg=AFQjCNGMCN-YXj3l3bq-MWoeI2MDigq1hQ&sig2=r4Jvw1KiOq96g7TRgWV_9Q&bvm=bv.93112503,d.aWw">Rideau</a>, was beautiful beyond my
awareness or assumptions. The downtown is old and clean and beautiful, and you
get a sense of its historical narrative by simply being there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If
the purpose of travelling is to see and live a different world from your own,
then that’s what I’m going to do. Isn’t that a nice and ideal plan for our
trip? But seriously. I’ve had this list of things I’ve planned to do since I
was there last year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">NEXT TIME IN
OTTAWA<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">This is going
down first thing! Our friends Adam and Kelly live in the Glebe and Adam works
at this used bookstore that is also a bar. It’s a bar bookstore. A bookstore
bar. Are you kidding me? It’s legitimately everything I have ever wanted.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">So you have to
go on the actual Parliament Building Tour to gain access to the library, but
I’m okay with that. Kailee and I went to the Parliament last time and it was so
outrageous in its beauty. So I’m okay to be led around the whole thing and hear
what the guide has to say. I’m so excited to see the library because of its
age, limited access, and the potential for materials that it will hold.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">A couple of
years ago, my friend Amanda went to New York and it was a main point of her
trip to visit the New York Public Library. It had never occurred to me to visit
Public Libraries in the cities I am visiting. I don’t know how, but I had
really never thought of it. So it’s a thing now. Furthermore, one of these
libraries has a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maker_culture#Makerspaces">makerspace</a>. So. I
gotta see it.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Did you know
that the great city of Montreal is just two hours away from Ottawa? Kailee and
I aren’t sure if we’re going to follow through on this one, and if we do, I’m
not sure what we’ll do once we arrive, but it doesn’t matter. When I visited
Laura in New Brunswick, we travelled four hours to Halifax for four hours of
downtown harbor wandering and then drove home, so I’m prepared to do everything
and nothing in Montreal.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="font-stretch: normal;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">I. Do. Not.
Know. Why. I am so obsessed with seeing <a href="https://www.google.ca/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&sqi=2&ved=0CB0QFjAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FStephen_Harper&ei=48ZTVdRExZfIBPqJgOgG&usg=AFQjCNExNqTF7Wsw1NAwMmqZij7v_DetTQ&sig2=vfcJRw8kPtMhWHYT_bIrPA&bvm=bv.93112503,d.aWw">StephenHarper</a>’s residence. Especially when there are cooler politics oriented
buildings to see downtown. So this one might not happen, but if it does, expect
to see a selfie.</span></span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">This one is on
Kailee. I don’t know anything about it, but I’ll let you know once it’s
happened.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Last fall,
Kailee went hiking at what looked to be the most glorious
mountain/waterfall/meadow. I doubt that’s what it actually was, but we are
going to crush whatever is actually there.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Furthermore,
Kailee and I plan to be fairly active on this trip. She regularly attends spin
and yoga classes at a gym in her neighborhood, so I am going to join her. This
will affirm the rest of our unhealthy behavior . . .</span></li>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Imma keep you
updated throughout the week. I’ll be posting images and videos on my <a href="https://instagram.com/todayinmyteenageangst/">Instagram</a> using the <a href="https://instagram.com/explore/tags/ottawatravelogue/">#ottawatravelogue</a>. Make sure to check
it out, as well as videos and images from my last trip. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Hannah Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503316416952408777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-59627277112128411982015-05-03T21:33:00.002-06:002015-05-03T21:33:46.690-06:00Carrie.Today, in my teenage angst, I finished off <i>The Carrie Diaries.</i><br />
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Janelle and I had just finished Don't Trust the B*** in Apartment 23, and life without The Bitch was not working for us. We started looking for a new show, and by looking I mean scanning the recommended shows on Netflix, and landed on The Carrie Diaries. If you're not aware, the show is a Prequel to Sex and The City, and follows Carrie Bradshaw - Sarah Jessica Parker's character - 's last two years in high school, before she moved to 'The City.'<br />
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I. Love. This. Show. I love everything about it. Twice this week in moments of fatigue and frustration, I've turned to this Carrie Bradshaw and let her innocence and excitment for life wash over me like a wave of . . . well something wave like. Sometimes the metaphors just will not come.<br />
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Annnyyyyway, I now present to you The Five Best Things About <i>The Carrie Diaries</i>!<br />
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<b>1) AnnaSophia Robb</b><br />
Stupid stupid AnnaSophia Robb. If you know me, you know that I regularly call the things I love very deeply, stupid, because of the emotional demand they require of me. AnnaSophia Robb is so amazing. She perfectly projects the optimism and naivete of Carrie Bradshaw. She navigates social situations at an enviable pace. She is protective and supportive of her friends, and despite her professional skills, is still a total eighteen year old idiot. It's so perfect. Everything is so perfect, and AnnaSophia is what makes it that way.<br />
<b>2) Candace Bushnell</b><br />
For lovers of the book series, or those that are overly attached to the original series, that might be critical of a prequel type spin off, you'll be pleased to know that Candace was as invovled as ever. Writing credits on every episode, and an executive producer on eighteen episodes, Candace was. around. to keep her original vision of the characters and their adolescent existences alive. Even moments like Carrie's first iconic Cosmo, are lovingly included.<br />
<b>3) It's such a wonderful snapshot of the time.</b><br />
So many social, political, and identity issues are discussed in this show; drugs, consent, LGBT rights, teen pregnancy and abortion, AIDS, and diffcult parent relationships. What's so amazing is that nothing is approached with any sort of PSA attitude. Ideas are approached, intelligently discussed, and the characters, therein, come to a more open appreciation of the issues. Their worldview is broadened. That's what you want, people. What. You. Want.<br />
<b>4) Dorrit.</b><br />
Carrie's younger sister Dorrit has to be a highlight by anyone's standards. The Bradshaw family lost their wife and mother just previous to the show's narrative. Dorrit carries the anxiety of this loss, more than anyone else. She and her mother were more alike than Carrie and their dad, and thus becomes the black sheep. She shows this through her resistance to Carrie's optimism and efforts at big sisterhood. This resistance though, enables her to develop crazy agency, which makes her fiercely independnet and sets her up for a well developed adulthood. Which is like, all I could wish for her.<br />
<b>5) The varying presentation of family systems.</b><br />
With Maggie from a working class family, Mouse as the daughter of immigrants, Carrie from a single parent home, and Walt the heir to a professional fortune, the show presents an appropriate varyance of family systems; especially considering the Connecticut setting. This makes the show economically diverse, which exposes the complications of the family unit's relationship to economic diversity. As a viewer, that's a total, and totally necessary win.<br />
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Check it out. It's on American Netflix, which I know a lot of you have. If you don't but<br />
would like me to teach you how to stream TV and movies, I have a Google Doc just waiting to be sent.Hannah Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503316416952408777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-81946553410754933942015-04-07T14:28:00.003-06:002015-04-07T14:28:24.048-06:00Carrabba. This weekend, amid my teenage angst, Taylor Swift threw her best friend a birthday party. At said birthday party, Chris Carrabba was invited to do a surprise concert for mega-fan Taylor-Swift's-best-friend. All the best people were there, including me, via my bedroom, watching a clip of the crowd singing Hands Down with Chris Carrabba and his awesome tattoos and hair. I spent the next half hour nostalgically realizing that I still knew all the words from start to finish, even the ones that I consistently sang wrong at the height of my obsession and eventually learned were incorrect.<br />
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I, not Taylor-Swift's-Best-Friend, am a mega-fan. I have and adore all of their albums, even Alter the Ending, which everyone was sniffy about and listen to it still (acoustic, and . . . plugged in. That's the opposite of acoustic right?) I love everything about this band. Their writing style, their melodies, their hooks. My friend Brock said to me once that no one is better at writing a hook than Chris Carrabba. I'll stand by that.<br />
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So I made this video. It's a cover of Hands Down. I'm embarrassed about it, but really I'm not because I made it and because this song is life. If you're not interested in a cover of Hands Down because you don't like Dashboard then please get off my blog and find some different reading. You are not wanted hear. Jk jk jk. I don't care if you don't like them, but please shut your mouth about it when you're near me. Or just shut your mouth about it all together. That's a better solution.<br />
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I get aggressive when I'm passionate. It's a thing.<br />
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<br />Hannah Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503316416952408777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-65573225666866678282015-04-04T21:03:00.002-06:002015-04-04T21:03:39.523-06:00Gethsemane.Today in my teenage angst, I love me a good biopic. I always have. I love character development, and I love knowing that someone's story was important enough to put on screen. I love that they bring people closer to that person's life, and bring a broader understanding to what they did, and why they did it.<br />
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Last year, Alan Turing's phenomenal story and the greater implications of his life were presented in The Imitation Game. The outstanding transformation of Eddie Redmayne to Stephen Hawking was Oscar Winning. Other favourite biopics are Erin Brockovich, The King's Speech (tears), Milk (tears), and Capote - all, also, Oscar Winning Performances.<br />
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Jesus Christ Superstar isn't often counted as a biopic. It is, nonetheless, a biographical story. Andrew Lloyd Webber first put the life of Jesus on stage in 1970, and has been changing lives ever since! Just kidding. Most people don't take this work terribly seriously, which is probably fair. Have you heard the theme? It's pretty funny. But last year, I was helping Ben prepare for an audition for this ALW Retrospective, and he was singing Gethsemane. Please watch this video and let it change you as it has changed me.<br />
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Whether you see it as historical or mythical, Jesus' story is pretty incredible. This nice guy enters a society that is struggling with corrupt leadership, classism, and adherence to their previous religious laws. He starts to teach people how to be nice to each other and correct their religious behavior in a way that benefits everyone. The leadership of the time hates this, obvs, because it goes against what they've been saying, so they work out the best way to get rid of him. Thousands of people were like, this guy is it! We gotta listen! But the leadership said, not so much. He's trying to sabatoge our work! He's not of God! We need to kill him.<br />
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The story goes that Jesus, being divinely born (read: sent from God), knew that the leadership was going to react this way to his teaching. He knew that he was going to be killed. So as the time draws closer, he starts preparing his followers as to what to do when he's gone. Then, the night before, he has one last convo with God. That's what you saw in the video.<br />
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Okay, so this guy, Steve Balsamo, played the role of Jesus for like, less than a year. Which is honestly too bad. I feel like his conviction and commitment to the role is so whole, and his voice is . . . well. Hello. Not to mention, he brings to the forefront something the musical expands upon that isn't reallllyyy fully fleshed out in the gospel narrative: the interpersonal struggle of Jesus as he awaits his death. Did you hear the line when he says - talking to God -, "Then I was inspired (referring to the beginning of the ministry), now I'm sad and tired. After all I've tried for three years; seems like nintey. Why then am I scared to finish what I started? What you started; I didn't start it." I find this so affective in the way that it emphasizes the humanity and fear that Jesus experienced, just as I would have; but haven't.<br />
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I haven't experienced a lot of warranted fear in my life, but I appreciate things that bring me closer to understanding those who do. During Easter weekend - one of my favorite times of year - I think a lot about the fear Jesus experienced doing what he did. And I'm grateful for it. <br />
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Biopics guys. They make us better.<br />
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PS. This was supposed to go out yesterday - on Good Friday - and I know you're probably reading in on Easter Sunday, which then makes the timing weird. Please, excuse it. Watch the song anyway.Hannah Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503316416952408777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-58096087060183827742015-03-27T16:17:00.001-06:002015-03-27T16:17:47.128-06:00Thursdays and Fridays. Today in my teenage angst, I had trouble logging into my blog. It had been almost six months since I'd done it and I forgot what my log in email was. I got a hot flash of anxiety and started thinking about how I was going to probably have to build a new blog. I immediately considered the benefits of this, but ultimately how much I didn't want to do it.<br />
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Luckily, Blogspot is built to deal with this kind of problem. I got in, and quickly made my gmail account a contributor. The real problem is that I made this blog before I had a gmail account. I find this reality to be astounding and a little upsetting. I've been blogging on Today in my Teenage Angst for eight years. In that time, my blog I've graduate from college, moved across the country, moved back from across the country, gained two neices, remained exorbitantly single, run three half-marathons, graduated from college again, moved out of my parents house, and decided upon a profession.<br />
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I'm just not sure how much you've heard about any of that. I'm bad at consistency. I'm bad a follow through. Do you know that I have a YouTube channel? Do you know that there's a segment in it called Today in Top 40, in which I analyze and promote the merits of Top 40 music, because I love love love Top 40 music? No; because I haven't told you. And maybe part of me doesn't want you to know. But the rest of me really does.<br />
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I typically work less on Thurdsays and Fridays. I rely on these days to be alone, run errands, do laundry, cook, etc. Life sustaining things. A lot of times, though, I just end up watching tv. So I decided I could probably do to devote these days to a little bit of work as well; content creation, to be more specific, but sometimes crafting, or writing a recommendation letter, or reading a book on the <a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Utopia-Rules-Technology-Stupidity-Bureaucracy/dp/1612193749/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1427493647&sr=1-1&keywords=utopia+of+rules">secret joys of buraucracy</a> written by the person who coined the term The 99%. The cover is so pretty guys.<br />
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That was a several weeks ago, and this post is the first use I'm making of my Thursdays and Fridays. I guess I'm telling you about this so that I have some sort of accountability. Not that I think anyone is actually waiting for some sort of word from me on Thursdays or Fridays, but that is neither here nor there. I can do things, and I want to do them. So here I am.<br /><br />Here's a photo from a concert I went to last night. I do not want to talk about the Say Something cover I heard and rolled my eyes at, or the hardcore cover of Taylor Swift's Trouble that I actually loved. I would rather the effort and love that went into those paper hanging things.<br />
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The aim is to see my time as something that is worth using, and not just sit around thinking about whether or not I have enough time to sneak in a nap. </div>
Hannah Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503316416952408777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-47231320762561043652014-10-01T22:58:00.001-06:002014-10-01T23:01:53.375-06:00My Ten Year Old Self.Today in my teenage angst, I write myself a letter.<br />
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My <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Paper-Umbrella/107399475956725?sk=info" target="_blank">favorite stationery shop</a> held an event that encouraged shoppers to stop and write a letter to their ten year old selves. I missed the event itself, but I feel like my heart, mind, and readers could have benefitted from the exercise. So I'm going to do it on my own.<br />
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Dear Hannah at ten years old,<br />
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Listen to me child. It is absolutely fine that your favorite outfit consists of offbrand tear-away pants and that strange sweatshirt that features Elmo and Grover (or was it Cookie Monster) hanging out above the beloved (?) Tommy Hilfiger flag. Wear it with pride, my friend, for you in it you<br />
are comfortable, and happy. That is the best kind of outfit, and one that truly works. </div>
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Within the next few years, you will feel, with increasing frequency, those uncomfortable feelings of terror that accompany everyday experiences. It's okay. This is called anxiety, and I want you to know that however you ennact that anxiety is entirely acceptable. What's not okay, though, is thinking that it's normal. It's not. It can be fixed. But you're going to have to ask for help. Feeling scared and sick all the time, isn't something that I want you to have to deal with, and while I understand that we would be an entirely different person if I had gotten help sooner, it's not something I want you to have to deal with.<br />
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I want you to stop comparing yourself to people. I know you don't even really know you that you do this yet, but you'll eventually become aware and wish you could stop. I want you to start realizing now that everyone is someone. Everyone is wonderful, and everyone is scared. Your feelings are not unique, so stop feeling so alone. Share. Believe me when I say that Karlie really does like you. The harder you try to make that true, the less she will be able to stand you. But don't worry, the two of you are still besties.<br />
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Stop planning your wedding. Despite the fact that you go to like twelve every year, stop imagining what yours is going to be like. The best part of a wedding is what comes after: marriage. Start focusing on that. Yes, calla lilies are really nice. You won't want them in fifteen years. </div>
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Get to know yourself, Hannah, in every possible way. Experience all that you can. Listen closely, and read carefully. <i>Read</i>. This is a big one, considering the place we end up. Read widely. Read critically. Read for pleasure and for pain. Read what makes you laugh and that which has the power to elicit tears. Make lists and lists and lists of your favorite books. Own them all. It's worth it. Just read. </div>
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I'll see you soon, Han. I love you. I hope you love us too. </div>
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Love, Hannah at twenty-seven<br />
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P.S. Be nicer to mom. She's not doing anything wrong. You're not an easy pre-teen. </div>
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P.P.S. DO NOT change your writing style next year. It will curse you for all future writing experiences.<br />
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P.P.P.S You're a giant weirdo. You're going to spend a lot of time in your teen years trying not to be one. Don't expend the energy. It's one of the best things you've got going for you. </div>
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Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-29105516817507453102014-09-15T09:00:00.000-06:002014-09-15T13:35:18.115-06:00QCM 2014! <div style="text-align: left;">
A little over a week ago, in a state of very high teenage angst, I ran the Queen City Marathon for the third time. Before you even think about it, I ran the half. People consistently asked me throughout my training if I was running the half or the full. I always react in appropriately to this question. I scoff and laugh and say, do I look like I'm running the full? I seem to think that everyone looks at my height and stride, and assumes I'm running the half. This is poor reasoning, however, because a girl I know ran the full this year and finished first in her age category. She is at least three inches shorter than I am. So. </div>
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If you read <a href="http://todayinmyteenageangst.blogspot.ca/2014/01/qcm.html" target="_blank">this post</a> from earlier in the year, you'll know a great deal of preparation went into the decision to run this marathon. Last year was rough, and while I knew the reason for that was a distinct lack of training, I wasn't sure I could even stick to a reasonable training plan. </div>
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WRONG! I totally did it. I ran over a hundred and fifty miles (not kilometers (!)) in training and going into the day, felt outrageously prepared. And I was. </div>
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The first eight miles were amazing. I ran so fast. So. Fast. It was so awesome. The first two songs that played on my QCM 2014 Playlist were N'Sync "It's Gonna Be Me," and NKOTB's "Step By Step." Furthering the awesome. </div>
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I have supernatural abilities to predict the future. Apparently. </div>
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The sun came out in full force, just in time to eat me alive and ruin all hopes of finishing well. </div>
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This, as my third race, has formed into somewhat of a tradition. My sister comes with me to the race, I get mad at her because I'm so anxious, we fight a little, we laugh at how ridiculous it is that we do this, then I start running and she goes to Starbucks. A couple hours later, she makes her way back and waits for me to finish. She loves it; more than I do. It's weird. </div>
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My best friend Karlie meets me at the finish too. The first year I ran, she was a surprise. I was running to the finish and she was calling at me holding her screaming six month old. Its the best and funniest picture. </div>
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So we did it again the next year. Paisley wasn't crying, but she wasn't super into the proceedings. She laughed at my fatigue.</div>
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This year, Karlie had a meeting at 11.30. I thought this meeting was at 11. So around Mile 11 (that time stamp is incorrect), I was pretty sure I wasn't going to make it back in time. I was wilting under the weight of the sun and it's horrendous sensory impact. I realized I wouldn't get to take my picture with Paisley, and new to the scene this year, Vivian. At this realization, I started sobbing. You should know, that probably 90% of the participants on the course, are super caring. So there were a number of people, upon hearing my sobs, that stopped to make sure I wasn't running on a broken leg. If I had told them, I probably would have laughed. I texted Beth to tell her I was sobbing and why and she didn't respond. I realize now it was a little irrational. Karlie texted me to smarten up and finish. She would be there. </div>
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This is Vivi. She appreciated the presence of grass. </div>
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. . . on the ground. I kept it. </div>
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Paisley running with me to the end was actually super hilarious. She was so into it, laughing and hopping along; at the beginning. It was a hundred yards to the actual finish line, which is a lot for such tiny legs. I picked her up and carried her across and had them place my medal around her neck. I thought she would like that, but she was overwhelmed by all that is the finish line, so she did not. Hahaha. Paisley, we will continue to do this, and one year we will get a legit and ideal picture. </div>
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I went home and laid in bed. I had heat stroke. You know that feeling when you can feel your body radiating heat, but all you want is to be warmer? It was so brutal. I kept falling in and out of recovery sleep, which btw is the worst nap ever. I drank three liters of water. I didn't go to work the next day. FEEL SORRY FOR ME!!! </div>
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But seriously, let's go back to my Mile Seven tweet. I felt so good. My body felt so good. I was so prepared. I just couldn't control the elements. So I knew, even as I was sobbing, I was going to do this again; and hope for rain.</div>
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PLUS! Next year is the 15th anniversary. That means extra awesome t-shirts! Probably. </div>
Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-6755943903089370442014-09-14T19:50:00.000-06:002014-09-14T19:50:00.605-06:00I was going to blog butttt . . . Today in my teenage angst. I was going to blog . . . but . . .<br />
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<br />Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-86112932023299939432014-08-11T21:06:00.002-06:002014-08-11T21:06:35.227-06:00Robin.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-66Hhc4BVm-E/U-mDyn8uIEI/AAAAAAAAA28/fg0Zc4OVpdA/s1600/dead-poets-society1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-66Hhc4BVm-E/U-mDyn8uIEI/AAAAAAAAA28/fg0Zc4OVpdA/s1600/dead-poets-society1.jpg" height="280" width="400" /></a>Today in my teenage angst, Robin Williams died.<br />
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If you know me at all, which you likely don't, you'll know I love celebrities. I think they have a really hard job, standing in the public eye, standing up to scrutiny, performing in the biggest way possible. Naysayers, those people we know and hate but inevitbaly are, only make it harder. I think we need to be really careful about the way we think about celebrities and evidence that thought.<br />
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Loving them as I do, I form attachments. In February, I was walking around Superstore when my dad texted me to see if I had heard about Philip Seymour Hoffman. He was gone. He'd been found in his apartment. PSH is my favorite actor; tied with Dustin Hoffman. I think he is such an example of versatility and brilliance on screen. My heart stopped when I read that text. I finished my shopping in a haze. As I got to my car, I climbed into the front seat and started to cry. I didn't stop sobbing for two more hours. I had to go to sleep. Now as I think of it, I laugh a little, because he is a complete stranger. I know him only in fictional situations. I hadn't known, up until that point, that he even had a drug problem. But for some reason, to me, he was it. I was alwasy so happy when he was cast in something. Because there was more; more to see, anticipate, and hold. I still can't believe he's gone.<br />
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I do not have this attachment to Robin Williams. My first encounter with his wonderful voice was Aladin, in 1992, in a theatre in Lethbridge, Alberta. I will readily admit, however, that I don't like Mrs. Doubtfire, and I've never seen Good Will Hunting. Even so, Robin Williams changed my life.<br />
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I did nine years of undergraduate education. I love education and the process and the power of influence from minds that are wiser than mine. I love that, when approached appropriately, I can come out of a semester in a course having had my worldview shaped and reformed forever. So obviously, the story of Dead Poets Society is close to my heart. The freedom of learning offered to the boys, through the teaching of Mr. Keating - played by Williams, is exactly this kind of worldview shaping teaching. Two scenes, as an adolescent, and then as a teen, and then as an undergrad, gave me an unceasing and irrefutable love for education and as a result changed my life.<br />
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First. A verrryyy young Ethan Hawke fights Mr. Keating as he makes him write a poem in front of class after not completing the assignment.<br />
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Second. Mr. Keating explains the goodness and life-sustaining nature of beauty, art, and consequently life. Here he quotes from what is now my favorite poem, O Me, O Life.<br />
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I identify so closely with the message and sentiment of Dead Poets Society, most of which is carried by and communicated through the character of Mr. Keating. This identifcation has changed my life. Robin Williams performance, as the life altering Mr. Keating, then, has changed my life. I cannot even express how sad I am about his passing. Especially considering the manner in which it happened. Especially considering the climax of the story of Dead Poets Society. This is to me, the most important part of this whole post, and something I need to reiterate. O Me, O Life presents a questioning of the difficulties in life that surround us all; our self worth, the worth of others, the world itself. Whitman closes the poem by asking a question and then responding.<br />
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<i>. . . What good amid these [difficulties], O me, O life?</i><br />
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<i>Answer. </i><br />
<i><b>That you are here.</b> That life exists and identity. </i><br />
<i>That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. </i><br />
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I hope you can find your verse. I promise, it is within you to write one.Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-33382195288507369122014-08-04T15:41:00.001-06:002014-08-04T15:41:26.081-06:00Summer Update (scorn face).<center>
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<a href="http://todayinmyteenageangst.blogspot.ca/2014/01/qcm.html">QCM Post</a>Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-44678184727696575992014-06-22T00:10:00.002-06:002014-06-22T00:10:24.214-06:00Today in Top 40: MAGIC!In which discuss the wonder and glory of Canadian Raggae Pop Band MAGIC!<br />
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Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-30970730498844780052014-06-16T10:31:00.002-06:002014-06-16T10:31:28.959-06:00Gradu-lame-tion.The problem with having a blog to which you post videos from your YouTube channel is that sometimes you forget to actually post the videos you've uploaded on YouTube. This is to say, this videowent up a week and a half ago.<br />
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Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-22406436904930332852014-06-13T12:09:00.001-06:002014-06-13T12:09:50.638-06:00Movin' Out.<center>
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Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-13075721376112541412014-05-15T15:41:00.000-06:002014-05-15T15:41:37.553-06:00Hayleigh.Today in my teenage angst, I give you The Best of Hayleigh Lawson.<br />
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I've been babysitting Carter and Hayleigh for almost two years. I started on Carter's fourth birthday. Hayleigh hadn't yet turned two. After figuring a few things out, the three of us have become best best friends. I'm there almost once a week - bless their parents for needing regular time out - and in that time we have eaten about a thousand pieces of pizza, had innumerable Frozen singalongs, quoted <i>Shrek the Musical</i> (or Usical as Hayleigh likes to say) till our brains fell out, and read the same <i>Incredibles</i> bedtime story four hundred times.<br />
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For about a month, when I was finishing school, I didn't see these babies at all. I got heartbreaking texts from their mom reminding me to let her know when I was available because the kids had been asking for me. I missed them desperately. Finally, on Saturday, we were reunited. It was epic. What follows are the highlights of our conversation.<br />
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Me: Hayleigh what would you like to drink?<br />
Hayleigh: Five Alive. But we don't have any Five Alive, so I'll have apple juice.<br />
<br />
H: Hannah will you paint my nails?<br />
Me: Sure! Let's go find some polish.<br />
H: Are you going to paint my nails?<br />
Me: Yep!<br />
H: You're my best friend. Wanna hold hands?<br />
<br />
Me: (laughing at her)<br />
H to Carter: Why is she laughing all the time? [to me] Hey! Why are you laughing all the time?<br />
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H [preparing to play catch with a plastic ball]: I'm just going to put my hairclip right here . . .<br />
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H: Do you want to use this ball? [smells the ball]<br />
Me [confused]: Does the ball smell?<br />
H: Yep! It smells like ball.<br />
<br />
H [watching Shrek burst out of his outhouse]: He's too big for his bathroom. I'm not to big for my bathroom.<br />
<br />
H [dealing with her puzzle]: Aww nuts. *This was, I kid you not, said with the exact same inflection and intensity as Michelle Tanner. All I can do now is wait for the inevitable, "You got it dude!"<br />
<br />
H [getting ready for bed, exhausted and moody]: Will you get that down for me?<br />
Me [pulls down a pink bathrobe]: I think this is just for morning time.<br />
H: No I wear it to sleep all the time.<br />
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H: Can we wear real pajamas now? I want to wear my Arielle ones. Imagine my [halloween] costume. [Pulls out Halloween costume] See? It matches.<br />
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Saturday was unprecedented. In the month that I was gone, Haleigh grew up more than I was aware was possible. I now understand, with new and great conviction, the statement: They grow up way too fast.Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-45872886568037962702014-05-12T09:39:00.001-06:002014-05-12T09:39:56.088-06:00Today in Top 40: Much.<center>
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Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-31222392793251923092014-04-21T10:35:00.000-06:002014-04-21T10:35:00.660-06:00Today in Top 40: An IntroductionIn which we discuss what makes Top 40 Music so great.<br />
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As I am no longer writing for Rage Regina, all future installments of TITF can be found here and on my Youtube channel. Obvs.Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-60998192305265553582014-04-06T10:53:00.001-06:002014-04-06T10:53:40.100-06:00Last.<center>
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Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-85677898256594207242014-02-10T12:18:00.000-06:002014-02-10T12:18:35.769-06:00Kailee & Amanda: Pt. 2<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">Today in my teenage angst, I continue with Life Changing Lessons. I'm 26 now and in my last semester (probably) of undergraduate education. Most of my friends are married with children or have grad degrees by now. I'm not emotionally invested in this fact because I'm doing what I want and am weirdly content about it. None the less, when I meet people who have come to my age and are generally good at life, I am inspired to draw from their awesomeness in hopes of one day becoming a functioning adult. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pJrtKdBsPeg/UvZ4RJqqgPI/AAAAAAAAA1E/6atINq1XueM/s1600/tumblr_muqatvADfX1qzprlbo10_500.png" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18.479999542236328px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pJrtKdBsPeg/UvZ4RJqqgPI/AAAAAAAAA1E/6atINq1XueM/s1600/tumblr_muqatvADfX1qzprlbo10_500.png" height="320" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not a good example of a functioning adult.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">Amanda is one such person. As a sort of refresher from Pt. 1 of this post, Amanda is an introverted Archivist and one of the smartest people I have yet to encounter. She is also the most functional young adult I know. This inspires me. It's like as a generation, we've taken it upon ourselves to be dysfunctional in most areas of our lives. We might be able to hold down a fulfilling job, or graduate from Grad School, but relationally, we're a mess. Psychologically, we're a mess. Emotionally, we're a mess. Amanda is not a mess. She defies the archetype of the quarter-life crisis; and I am better for having gotten to watch her do it. People say that Amanda was born 40 years old and that is why she's so functional. This is partly true, Amanda is truly an old soul. But I'm also pretty sure it's just because she's Amanda. I want to be Amanda. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JqvGTc1LpUU/UvZ4QdMbIvI/AAAAAAAAA00/491k0GHaPOs/s1600/tumblr_muqjgmVLec1r9pxl0o1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18.479999542236328px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JqvGTc1LpUU/UvZ4QdMbIvI/AAAAAAAAA00/491k0GHaPOs/s1600/tumblr_muqjgmVLec1r9pxl0o1_400.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of our shared great loves.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;"><b>Life Changing Lessons From Amanda</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;"><b>1. Productivity is normal. Laziness is not.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">One of Amanda's favorite phrases is "that's fair." I'm certain it works toward her ability to reamin conversationally objective, but it drives me crazy. Mostly because when I'm being ridiculous in a bad way she'll tell me it's fair to behave that way, but she never does. It's an accepted part of Amanda's life that she will be productive. She is more consistently productive than not. I am never productive. And when I am, I deem it necessary to high five myself about it. Amanda shows me that my laziness, while commonly seen as normal, shouldn't be. Efficiency doesn't have to be taxing, but it tends to be when you aren't consistently efficient and have to cram efficience into an hour. This goes directly into my next life-changing lesson from Amanda.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;"><b>2. Be better. Work harder. </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">Amanda is the kind of person who works full time, goes to the gym five times a week, consistently cleans her house, avoids junk food, and still engages in all the greatest teen obsessions of our time. These things </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">(except that last one), she will admit, don't come naturally to her. It's not the funnest thing to clean and eat well. And the gym sometimes sucks. The aim, however, is not to enjoy the difficult things of life, but to do them. In this, she seeks to be better. To be functional. To be healthy. I, in contrast, will skip the gym because a celebrity died and eat a bag of doritos because I haven't in a while. Amanda shows me that the key to being better is to simply be better. Do the stuff you don't want to because it's better for you, and it makes you better. So I drag myself to the gym and I put off watching yet one more episode of FNL to do my stats reading. Because it's better.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o5n38BLz5fQ/UvZ4QcQU3NI/AAAAAAAAA04/ATNmPZ4x1oU/s1600/tumblr_myunoo4m1a1r9pxl0o1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18.479999542236328px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o5n38BLz5fQ/UvZ4QcQU3NI/AAAAAAAAA04/ATNmPZ4x1oU/s1600/tumblr_myunoo4m1a1r9pxl0o1_400.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We both definitely have holds on THIS IS US, at our respective libraries.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;"><b>3. Be adventurous. </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">Amanda likes to do things. Big things. Not like party-big, but climb Machupichu-big. She picked her University because she could do a semester abroad there. Last year she went to New York just to see The Postal Service play one of the five shows they would ever do together. Later this year she is going with her sister to Peru. To see the sights and clime the aforementioned Machupichu. She likes to do things. She's adventurous. I like to stay home. I really really like my room. I like fictional worlds. And I'm okay with that. But here's the thing: so does Amanda. She likes her space too, and delves into fictional worlds with even more fervor than I do. But she also finds the non-fictional devling into real worlds as compelling. Identifying so closely with Amanda and watching her experience the world, has, out of no where, made me also want to experience the world. In small steps, obviously. I'm going to Ottawa next week and I'm pretty pumped about it. There's a lot to see, you know? I want to be adventurous. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Speaking of functioning adults who shouldn't be.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.479999542236328px;">I'm not trying to emphasize my weaknesses in these posts. They're not really weaknesses because they're not permanent. I can change. I've spent two semesters now studying the psychological mechanisms behind behavioral change. They exist, dammit!!! The point is rather that these relationships were unexpected, but not accidental. I have a lot to learn from those surrounding me, and I'm pretty grateful for the presence of Kailee and Amanda last year, as instrumental in the development of a (hopefully) healthier, more whole, and functional Hannah. </span></span>Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-5015686959419679272014-02-08T10:46:00.000-06:002014-02-08T10:46:51.573-06:00Kailee & Amanda: Pt. 1<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Today in
my teenage angst, it’s February 8<sup>th</sup>, and far too late to start
making resolutions. I didn't do a resolutions/plans post because I decided not
to make any and I didn't make the kind of plans that I wanted accountability
for. It was just one of those things. There are a lot of live evolutions I’m
looking forward to this year; graduating (again), for instance. These things
I’ll inevitably share with you as they happen. They aren’t the kind of things,
however, that we need to anticipate together. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was
kind of a weird year, though, and by the end I was excited for it to be over.
While I understand the ‘turning of a new leaf seduction’ of January 1<sup>st</sup>,
I like to be careful about it; acknowledging my human-ness and general
inability to follow through. Nonetheless, I met two people this year that
affected me in such a way that I came to look at the possibilities for 2014 in
a renewed light. Both are women. Both are younger than I; though, one by only a
few months. Both are more accomplished and have more focus than I. This is
where their similarities end. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Kailee is
a hyper-extroverted, certified High School English Teacher who has spent time
teaching English in Peru, and Swaziland in Southeast Africa. She runs the day
camp at the Moose Jaw Multicultural Center during the summers, handling twenty craz-bot children,
all facing daily cultural onslaught, and is legit just like super whatevs about
it. I spent a composite day with them over the summer and was legitimately
losing my mind every second.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kd4Vqv7Z6wc/UvWnk86MiRI/AAAAAAAAA0g/eHhp3qyr15U/s1600/tumblr_ms865ilVjz1r9pxl0o1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kd4Vqv7Z6wc/UvWnk86MiRI/AAAAAAAAA0g/eHhp3qyr15U/s1600/tumblr_ms865ilVjz1r9pxl0o1_400.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Amanda,
by contrast, is an introverted Archivist, who takes intense and admirable pride
in old documents and knows things I cannot fathom. She travelled to Italy with
her High School Latin class – obviously. She has spent significant time in Europe,
partly for school, and partly for awesome. In Grad School, she went to Guatemala
to work with <a href="https://www.google.ca/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&ved=0CCoQFjAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Flwb-online.org%2F&ei=41f2UrKCIqewyQGDxoCQAg&usg=AFQjCNGHOFuWy9LOsHu0Kc_FYbVgIQmwdA&sig2=kfNgtJY4LCNV9hr63xP7TA&bvm=bv.60983673,d.aWc">Librarians Without Borders</a>. Yep, that’s a thing. Most recently she got a boss job as a university archivist, with an office and everything, and is quite literally owning it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I met
Kailee through a mutual friend who told us we should spend some time together. Thanks, Matty.
We’re pretty happy about that. Kailee and I largely spend our time drinking wine and
talking about how to make the most of our lives while still living with our
parents. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I met
Amanda through the Library, where we work(ed). Admittedly, the first two months of
her employment, I didn’t know she existed. I saw her, obviously, but thought
she was just a new and really committed patron. Eventually, she emerged from
the Archive and we talked, first about the usual uninteresting things, and then
about the gym. Then we died over Casual Vacancy, and bonded over The Fault In
Our Stars, Taylor Swift, Friday Night Lights, Community, Arrested
Development, and television as a whole. We spend most of our time talking about
the glory of Teen Wolf, and getting upset wtih JK Rowling for the Ron/Hermione
thing and then trying to forget about it. That’s obviously more recent, but
we’ve spent a lot of time on it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">These two
are legit the most amazing and admirable women, not only because of who they
are and what they’ve done, but because of what they’ve taught me. The following
are three lessons from each that I am carrying into this year. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Life Change Lessons From
Kailee:<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>1. People
are good, and important, and lasting.</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Because
she’s a hyper-extrovert, Kailee has a giant community of friends, and
acquaintances. Kailee values people so much and she works really hard to make
sure they know that she values them. Kailee regularly takes a family of four
little African children to the theatre by herself, on her own dime, because she
loves them. Kailee’s love language – though she might argue otherwise – is
quite clearly quality time, and everyone around her is better for it. I take
into this year the importance of surrounding myself with people that will support me; emotionally, professionally, and socially. I am led, by Kailee’s example, to resist the isolation that often
comes as a result of my social anxiety. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>2. Adaptability</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Kailee
takes on challenges like no one’s business. I avoid challenging things; to a
fault. Last year, Kailee got a temporary teaching contract at one of the High
Schools in Moose Jaw. Teaching High School is really hard. She spent ten hours
at the school every day and went it on weekends. She shed a lot of tears. But
she didn’t quit. Mostly because you just don’t quit; but a lot of me thinks that I
probably wouldn’t have made it. Kailee is highly adaptable. She looks at a
situation, assesses the problems, and figures out the best way to survive, and
then thrive (yeah I did). It’s one of the most admirable things about her; and it's something I think about a lot when I enter uncomfortable situations. I channel my inner Kailee; as should we all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>3. If you
want it, work for it. </b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Kailee
knows what it is to work. She’s had a job since it was legal, worked all
through college, and usually works two jobs when she’s not in school. Even
during her trying semester teaching High School, she still waited tables at
night and on weekends in order to pay off her student-loan as quickly as possible.
Kailee also likes things. She likes to buy boots, and go on trips, and eat out. She also knows that those things come at a cost, and she’s willing to work
for the cost. If you want it, you have to work for it. When I look my school
coming to an end, and the things I want for my life, not only material, but
also communal and experiential, I am inspired to work harder to achieve those
things, more fully understanding the cost that accompanies their achievement. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I am a
better, more whole person for knowing Kailee and getting to watch her live her
life. It is my continual aim to actively put these things into practice. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Still to
comes: Life Changing Lessons from Amanda.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></div>
Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7937403606180128652.post-39023123873031419942014-01-18T21:55:00.000-06:002014-01-18T21:55:31.742-06:00QCM.Today in my teenage angst, I would first like to say that I love to make excuses. I am so lazy. Whenever I say this, one of my favorite profs at school replies, "as are we all." She's the cutest and I love her, but it doesn't make me feel any better about my laziness. Going into the Queen City Marathon 2013, I had such high hopes. I was going to train better and more consistently. That was the whole hope: get stronger, be better, finish faster. I did not.<br />
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When I started "training" in the spring I had a lot of trouble with my hip flexors, which made my knees feel like they weren't supposed to be a part of my legs, which made everything feel so much worse. Small reminder that I love excuses. So I stopped running for a while and did a lot of stretching, rolling, I went to the chiropractor. I got these new shoes and orthodics that I saved for forever and they made the front half of my feet fall asleep when I ran. So I ran a little. Like twenty minutes at a time, every once in a while. Suddenly it was the end of July and I hadn't done a single long run. So I did a long run. It was hell. I had to take my shoes off every two miles to wake my feet back up. I didn't run in between my long runs, but thought that was probably alright because I couldn't remember running that much inbetween long runs the year before. It wasn't; it wasn't alright.<br />
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So I got to the day of and I was super nervous. I ate a bagel beforehand, and it was so delicious. Do people know how delicious bagels are??? At this point, my sister was more excited than I was. Once we got there and I started filming and tweeting and stuff, I got excited too. One of the trainers from my gym came and wished me luck and was all affirming and stuff. And then we started running. The first seven miles were amazing. I felt strong, I found a pace buddy. I was all like, I'm over half done! I really thought I could make my time. It was super overcast, so the weather was ideal. Once we hit mile 8 my feet started faling asleep. This bone behind my big toe was rubbing on part of my shoe giving it a ridiculous bruise. I retied my shoes three times. I had blisters. Many. I took off my shoes for mile 9 but had to put them back on for mile ten. By mile 11 I had to run/walk 60/30 second splits; until the end. Three miles of 60/30 run/walks. I was so tired. My phone wasn't working so I couldn't even document the way I wanted to and I'm sorry, but there is little worse than not being able to social mediate the way you want to. I just wanted it to be over. Finally, I crossed the line. They put my medal around my neck, and I was immediately freezing. I wanted to cry but I couldn't breathe as it was, so I didn't. I went to find my sister but couldn't, so I just sat on the ground and waited. Beth eventually found me with my best friend and her daughter, who was in fine form and found my pathetic state pretty hilarious.<br />
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Queen City 2013 was the worst. The. Worst. I looked at Beth after and said, I can't do this again next year. She said she was sad and really loved doing this event with me. We have to leave at 6.45 in the morning to get there on time, and she just sits around for two hours, so I can't figure why she likes it so much. Either way, that was September 8th, 2013. I didn't run again until today. And I didn't even run today; I used the elliptical. The marathon was awful enough to make me question why on earth I do this. My body hates it, I can talk myself out of it so easily, and in the end I never see improvement.<br />
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So I'm trying to decide if I'm actually not going to sign up again and if I even can and want to and will do it. And here's all I can think about. QCM 2012 was so fun. It was my first time and it seemed to take forever, and I had to walk a lot but by the end I was just pretty pumped about it. I hurt a lot after, but ultimately it was really rewarding. QCM 2013 sucked. 'nuff said. But it can't suck once and be awesome once. That's not enough to quit. It has to be a two out of three, majority situation. So I'm doing the Queen City Marathon for the third time, this year. I went to the gym today, because while I don't necessarily want to do it, I believe I can do it, and I know I will do it. I want to be stronger and after a four month break, I'm a pretty sad sack. If it sucks, I'll stop. But if it's awesome, then that's that. I just can't quit yet. So I'm not. Stay tuned for what I am sure will be a sucktastic training season.Hannah-Leannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178522870068107628noreply@blogger.com2