Homeless and Journalist

Taken from: Family Budgeting Blog UK. August 27, 2012

 

We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted,unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty.

We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty.

Mother Teresa

What a day!
Today I met with Aaron, who is a case worker for the mental health branch of Mission Services London (aka Streetscape). I was a little lost as to which entrance to go to, but one of the clients courteously showed me where to go. He smelled of cigarettes and despair, but he was really nice to me. Aaron took me to visit the courthouse where one of his clients would plea guilty for… well a variety of things. Aaron tells me this guy was a pimp in his glory days, but has since developed a terrible addiction to every drug imaginable. He’s pleading guilty for some assault charges and he’s been in jail. In fact he wants to stay in jail because he can get treatment for his HIV. Long story short, Aaron and I waited in the courthouse for 2.5 hours, the guy never showed. Aaron tells me this is not unusual, but it is disheartening.

I had a great conversation with Aaron. What a cool guy. When I first spoke to him on the phone, I got the sense that he felt dumped on because he didn’t sound very enthusiastic. But I opened up to him a little and he opened up completely. He even told me about his own brief encounter with homelessness and hopelessness.

I’ve realized that my interview style is very fly-on-the-wall and sometimes I get caught up in the conversations we have and I go off topic. But Sometimes the lives of the people I interview are so much more interesting than my topic, I can’t help but hear them out. And it also gives me a sense of whether I can go to them again for another issue

After that we visited two clients that he’s been keeping and eye on. One guy, who has more of an addiction issue, and has never been homeless. Aaron tells me that his case is so unusual because this guy has all the supports he needs (in terms of family support, Aaron described them as “a wholesome family”). The client even completed Highschool and a College diploma. The other client was a girl, who had been homeless on and off for several years. She’s been with the mission long before Aaron began working for Streetscape, and at first she was very difficult to work with. In talking to her I learned that her rock bottom was her own HIV scare a year ago. She knew she had to get out as many of her friends started to die (really heavy), but her own scare with death is what finally did it for her. She definitely has a glimmer of hope in her eyes, and in speaking to her I can sense that she’s a very positive person, but Aaron tells me that she’s still at risk of relapse. She has yet to be sober for more than a month. I wish I could have interviewed her at her house, but her grandmother was home and not comfortable with the interview.

Anyway, it was a great day overall. The interview, hands down, is my favourite part of journalism. Aaron tells me the girl I interviewed, never opened up to anyone like that before. And I take that as a compliment on my own skills, but it also shines light on the purpose of the interview. Sometimes people like this second client need a venue to not only express themselves. Not just for their own expression, but the hope that someone out there might be hearing exactly what they need to hear. It gives them purpose. And hope. This is my kind of journalism, idealistic though it may be.

And now the big question: Can I be a compassionate person to my subjects and produce good journalism at the same time? This is the tightrope I will be walking in the next few months. Wish me luck.

The Presentation

 

Feeling like that vulerable days-old baby. Brought to the temple of the Lord to be the bearer of extraordinary news (Image courtesy of St. John the Bapstist Catholic Church in Corpus Christi, Texas)

This has been a rough year = Overstatement of the yearToday I went to mass, as I do every Sunday. During the offertory song all the pain of 24 years of petrifying fear and disapointment poured from my eyes.

There have been many times when I’ve cried at mass, often during song. But today was different. Tears were pouring, pouring and part of me was terrified that my weaknesses would be put on exhibition. The other part of me was tired of hiding.

I’m tired of the facade because it is a lie.

And now that I am here, living on my own, I have no excuse to hide. I can no longer hinge my failures on other people. I have to own my failures as opportunities to learn not just for what I was unable to do/say/accomplish.

I need to open myself up to more failure, not to satiate a somewhat masochistic part of myself, but to come to terms with what I DON’T want. That’s the way I’ve always learned, I guess. I don’t know why I thought this year I could miraculously learn otherwise.

In a world where people are defined by our resume, it happens all to often that we forget how it is we got there. And how it is we can move forward. How indeed?

Now that I’m getting married, it’s hard not to evaluate my worth in the same way. How much money am I making? (at least I don’t have any student debt to carry). Today, I cried before the altar, in mid-song, because now, more than ever. I’m willing to let people see behind the wall. Throughout this year, I’ve been chipping away at it. But now it’s all or nothing. No more caution.

No more front.

 

Homelessness

I’ve been working on a documentary about homelessness in Toronto. I learned a lot of shocking things so far.

Shocking? Maybe not. But I certainly had better expectations for the country of my birth. I would like to be proud of my country, but there are just some things I can’t excuse…

Homelessness and poverty is one of them

I had interviewed the Director of Homeless hub, Dr. Stephen Gaetz, and he had lots to say about respecting the homeless as people and not just infantalizing them. I will post the interview here later.

But for now, here is the link to the first episode of the Homeless Hub’s podcast, all on food insecurity.

Back in London

Here I am, back to the grind.

Only two months left of coursework and I still don’t know what I’m doing here.
And yet I feel strangely calm.

I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, yet I have no view of the obstacles in between.
I’ve done a lot of self-discovery this year. I’m going to try to be more self-sufficient, more self- disciplined.

I’ve realized that my lack of discipline is because I get so easily overwhelmed and then discouraged. I never thought of myself as a negative person, maybe just when it comes to myself. It’s been rough.

Today at least, I’m feeling focused. I’m learning to catch myself when I’m feeling discouraged. I assess the situation and I have to honestly feel like I’ve done everything possible before I give up. Everything possible means:
“Have I called the right people?”
“Who else can help me?”
“How much research have I done? Is it enough to give up entirely?”
“What’s my timeline? Do I have the time I go over my research again?”

I need to always feel like I have work to do. I should never be bored. There is so much work to do? What am I doing watching Shahs of Sunset?

Alarms. Lots of alarms. On my phone, on my iPad, on my calendar.

Every-effing-where

Focus, reminders and research

That will be the key to a successful two months.

Here I come winter ter.

Miserable and Tired

Always tired,

Sometimes also miserable

The remainder of the time. I’m miserable that I have to be so tired. 

Not even chocolate can solve.

I should be happy. I have a lot of things going for me. Correction. Things are going for me. I remember a time when life was completely still. A stagnant pond ideal for the growth of algae and mosquitos, and not much else. 

But now that I’m out. I’m out. I’m just always fatigued and unmotivated. Maybe my parents are right. Maybe I am just ungrateful. I don’t know what to do with myself. Correction. I know exactly what to do, but I can’t. 

Is this what freedom is? 

Just let me die

TED Weekends breaks the silence for suicide survivors

It’s always about surviving. Whether it’s yourself or the world around you, it will always be about survival…

Freedom: Some kind of Wonderful

It feels like I was meant to be here. This past year, all the tears and anticipation, all the anger and not-so-secret longing.

Detached and alone, I can’t help feeling suspended and yet engulfed in a wave where dirty dishes and the laundry machine chime no longer matter. Self-discovery is my guru this year as I pursue higher education and map out some concrete idea of what my future will look like. 

I accept that the idea of a future will likely always leave me in suspension, but I need to light my own fire, if I am to find my way in the ambiguous dark. No distractions. Only the long-awaited quiet. Like an infant navigating his language, so I will too learn to enunciate my voice.

Here’s to me!

So it begins :)

The Wedding planning begins! Rahil proposed to me this past Valentine’s day! He’s a sneaky one and I will tell you why.

Rahil and I had decided to do things the “traditional” way. At the Engagement Party, he would propose in the presence of both our families and rings would be exchanged (yes I would get a ring for him too). The sneaky one, let me think that was that.

“You know this is a special day,” he said. I was confused.

He took out a box with the People’s logo on it, and it still didn’t click. I was still under the impression that this was not a proposal (that wasn’t supposed to happen). Maybe he got me some earings?

On bended knee he slipped the ring on my finger. It fit perfectly (which is a big deal because rings NEVER fit me perfectly). No flowers or fancy words. No words spelled out across the sky, or extravagant locations.

Just him and me.

…and a sense of utter completeness.

[PS pics to come!!!]

Happy Belated Chocolate Cake Day!

January 27th, is National Chocolate Cake day! Considering I’ve never heard such a holiday, I can only assume that my nation does not appreciate such a holiday. And as a overall chocolate lover, I’m ashamed that I had never sought such a day out on my own terms.

In the midst of my grief, I sought out a reason to this rhyme and found a National Food Holiday Calends. Apparently there’s a different food to be celebrated for all 365 days of the year (what’s more interesting is that the foods celebrated are sorely indicative of which Nation celebrates them).

It looks like Betty Crocker went obsessive-compulsive and made a dinner/dessert/drinking plan for the year. July is particularly interesting with 5 days dedicated to Alcoholic beverages. Some days are particularly sad, like Frozen Food Day on March 6. But there are others which are way too specific to have collectively acquired “National” recognition (such as Pizza with the works minus the Anchovies day on November 12)

But where’s the Saag Paneer Day? Rasgulla Day? Pine Tart Day? Those are days I’d make a big deal about. In all fairness, August 19 is Hot and Spicy Food day, and December 29 is Pepper-pot Day. There are also many days dedicated to Italian, German and Mexican Cuisine (and Thanks to Iron Man, Robert Downey Junior, it’s only a matter of time before there’s a Shawarma Day).

I suppose it’s not a map of what everyone should eat, but if you have foods you like to eat (however general or specific) there’s a day for you to celebrate it.

No one seems to know where or when Chocolate Cake day (or any other Food Holiday) originated, so I don’t feel so bad for missing out on one. If all else fails there’s also National Chocolate Cupcake day (October 13), or Milk Chocolate day (July 28),or Chocolate-covered Anything Day (December 16), or Fudge Day (June 16).

Check out the Calendar for yourself!

News

He takes it so harshly. My poor daddy bear dreads the idea of my getting married. Sharing my life, my body, my soul with another man. Maybe he thinks he will never see me again when I get married. The thought is preposterous to me, but it is a possibility for him. 

I want to call him silly, I want to call him crazy, but he’s just a Daddy, how can he help what he feels?

In this article about arranged marriage, the New York Times talks about some inherent logic in the age-old tradition. More support from the family is a good thing for the relationship between two people. But how much does the family know about the child that they feel they can take the liberty of choosing the person they spend the rest of their lives with? Surely there is a gentle medium?

Parents these days know less and less of the person that their child is becoming. And this is an issue of communication. Parents need to work more to maintain a quality lifestyle for their children–put them through school, feed them, clothe them etc. And kids these days have their heads so far up in the sky that it’s no surprise when they trip over their own feet.