Lu-Lu-Lucy's Rant

Picking up the mess | Living life | sans tiger-parents

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Meet Lammily – a realistically sized Barbie. Soon to be at a store near you!

The day after I proclaimed my pessimism in gender equality, I came across this article:

Lammily: Barbie-like doll hits Kickstarter fundraising goal in a day!

Perhaps I don’t have to give up on humanity just yet?! Happy International Women’s Day!!

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Pet peeve @work.

When I fill the kettle at work and put it to a boil, how is it that my coworkers think it’s OK to use up all the hot water?! They won’t even refill it even though my mug is right beside the kettle! Blasphemy!!! Such inconsiderate people I work with! I always refill the kettle when it’s getting close to empty, and I don’t even mind making hot water for everyone. But can’t they see my empty mug sitting there, obviously in line for some hot water? Haven’t they realized that hot water always magically appears in the kitchen?! Do they think Genie works in our office too?

If everyone would just be a little bit less selfish, who knows, the world could be a better place.


Can equality exist?

Most of you have likely seen this French short film through some form of social media: it flips women’s and men’s roles and let men get a feel of what it’s like to be women. If you haven’t already seen it, I invite you to check it out. It’s worth the 10 minutes.

Some of the events which struck me as really ridiculous – ie. effective for men to witness in this light, were the day home care-giver (dude) sporting the headdress, and the sexual assault victim and his experience at the police station. I was sexually assaulted by my freaking ancient 65+ year old neighbour a few years ago.  It was the most awkward and uncomfortable thing when the policeman showed up to my apartment to ask me questions.

I feel like being a woman is an everyday battle. We don’t have to bring up “rape culture” to stir up a discussion. Let’s talk about income disparity. Are men proven to be smarter, more hard working, more career-focused? Is it because they are not the ones having to give birth, therefore usually not the ones taking a year off to care for new borns? Are women paying for the biological make-up and functionality of our bodies? The top-earning (CEOs) men in Canada bring home an average of $2 mil, while the top-earning women in Canada bring home an average of $500k. 

What about toys for children? Have you walked into Toys”R”Us? Why is it that the girls aisles are pink, and the boys aisles are full of colors? Are we conditioning and perpetuating the next generation to repeat what we are going through? Did you know the first talking Barbie said “Math is hard!”?? Is it interesting (or disgusting?) that girls have a greater selection of toys that don’t require any skills of putting any parts together, maybe besides stickers? While boys get to exercise their brains by putting together Lego, robots, and cars? Is that why in college/university, the number of young women makes up less than 15-20% of most engineering classes? I graduated 10 years ago. I just attended an industry and students mixer last night, and I don’t quite see a break in this trend.

Why is it that generation after generation, women feel the need to show off their bodies, get photographed half or completely naked for magazines? And then we demand to be respected?! Well, no wonder men think of us as sex objects.

It is very tiring to fight an uphill battle every day. What can I do? How can I help to bring about some positive change for women? Should I simply accept that women are the sensitive, nurturing ones, the care givers of homes, who will always make less money than our male counterparts? Should I accept that equality is not meant to exist..??

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If there is one thing I could go back in time and change…

A fellow blogger had posted this question, I’ve decided to answer with my own post. I briefly browsed through the hundreds of replies, some said that their ‘regret’ is not something they can mention ‘here,’ others listing a long list of “I wish I had,” many responded philosophically, saying that everything in the universe happens for a reason and are very happy with who they are etc, still, some answered with true regret sharing their heart-felt personal stories.
For me, it is simply a fun little exercise. Because…
1. I firmly believe that regrets don’t do any good.
2. Time machines do not exist (to the best of my knowledge), so this is a purely hypothetical question.
In any case, if I were to change one thing, I would choose not to have aborted. Because my older one would be 14 this year. My life would have turned out so differently. I didn’t have the courage to take on the responsibility then. Or to face the judging eyes and the ridicule. Or the possibility of not finishing my undergrad.
Once in awhile, I wonder how life would have turned out.

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Rape Culture at the University of Ottawa

People say that there’s equality. That is the biggest f*cking pile of BULLSHIT ever. I guess by “people,” I mean “men.” This topic has been on my mind, I will make the time this weekend to finish up my post. For now, please read up on this BS that is happening at the University of Ottawa.

The Belle Jar

On February 10th, Anne Marie Roy, president of the Student Federation of the University of Ottawa, was sent screenshots of a chat that had taken place earlier in the month between two student federation board members and several other students who are either elected to or participate in various faculty associations. The chat had taken place during the student federation elections, and all five men involved were members of a campaign opposing Roy’s (Roy has been president of the student federation since May 2013, and was re-elected this month). The conversation was about Roy, and the portion she was given contained graphic sexual descriptions about what the men wanted to do to her, including a rape joke that could, potentially, be taken as a rape threat.

Below are the screenshots. The participants are as follows:

Bart Tremblay: a non-elected student involved with the association for the Arts faculty

Alexandre Giroux:…

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Looney bin & crazies

It’s OK to admit it. You think only “crazies” end up in the “looney bin.” That’s what I thought, too – until I landed my ass in there.

What I remember most vividly about the psych. ward is that the doors lock behind you. No one goes in or out unless you’re let in by the nurses, visitors included. There was always one or two patients who hung around the doors, trying to follow visitors or the meal-delivery staff out. At times, the nurses had to call for the help of security; and those would be the most exciting times in the ward. For the most part, the ward was drama free and quiet.

I had envisioned there to be lots of “colorful” characters, but it was quite the contrary. To my relief, most of everyone suffered from severe depression and anxiety issues. Just like me. A dad with young kids who got laid off and couldn’t find stable work, anxiety and low self esteem paralyzed him; a retired mom with grown children who was constantly anxious because her husband had a bad temper; a young man who got into a work related accident on a job site that changed his personality, then turned suicidal…. and I was diagnosed with severe depression, anxiety disorder and post traumatic stress disorder (more commonly known in short as PTSD) (thank you, mother monster!!)

The last few years, I felt too embarrassed or ashamed to even talk about this (besides the point that hardly anyone knows anything about mental health and often dished out stupid advice like “why can’t you just be happy?”) There’s simply so much misunderstanding (lack of knowledge) and bad stigma attached. Unless someone in your immediate family or you suffer from mental disorders, most of us don’t understand or care to find out about it. So, in writing and sharing my personal experience, I hope that at least the small audience here will now be a bit more aware and be able to spread the word.

Mental health illness is very much like a very bad cold which won’t go away. It can be hereditary, an imbalance of chemicals, triggered by a significant and traumatizing event, or all of the above. So, next time someone confides in you that they have depression, please don’t say stupid shits like “Well, at least you have a good job, or at least your bf is nice… ” Seriously, if it was so simple, we wouldn’t need medication. Simply say that you’re there to listen or to be supportive will suffice.

Don’t judge anyone unless you’ve walked a mile in others’ shoes. True story. I learnt this valuable lesson when I got my goodie bag of mental disorders.

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My own kids to love

Hugs. Kisses. Cuddles. Skipping down the side walk hand in hand. An embrace of encouragement or consolation, or one of pure affection. Growing up, I didn’t get any of these from my mother. Or my father.
For as long as I can remember, I have wanted my own kids. So I can shower them with this kind of earth-shattering, ever-assuring motherly love. In what I did not experience as a daughter, I want my children to be basked in a glorious, constant love. I hope they will not have a doubt in their minds that no matter what happens, I will be their rock, their mom, their cheerleader, their shelter. Someone they can come home to in joy or sadness, in success or failure.