An Activist Nap

A tiny glimpse into my personal life: I am a napper. Last night, after work, I napped from 5-7 p.m. (Could have something to do with the fact that I'm an on-and-off anemic, but that's besides the point.) After a nap like this, I wake up feeling one of two ways: 1) refreshed and ready to be productive for the final few evening hours, or 2) "WHAT?!? It's 7! How am I going to cook, clean, watch my favourite show, work out, and get to bed at a decent hour? Why do I do this to myself!!!" (Luckily, last night was the former.)

Since late March/early April, I've been napping.

I stopped listing to CBC Radio in the mornings and tuned into Hot 89.9.

I finished reading "X-Marks" by Scott Richard Lyons, then picked up "Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?" by Mindy Kaling.

I took a time-out from twitter in favour of constantly trolling my never-ending Facebook Newsfeed.

I fell behind reading some of my favourite blogs, like Native Appropriations and mediaINDIGENA, but read back posts on blogs like Suri's Burn Book and Young House Love.

Notice a trend here? I took, what I'll call, an "Activist Nap."

I'm not going to apologize for any of it. I'll still listen to Hot 89.9 when I'm in my car, and Young House Love is on my daily reading list. But this girl's nap is over.

I had an absolutely wild fall season. It was the busiest and most amazing time of my life, as I took on my biggest challenge yet of teaching a college class of 30 awesome Native students.

And after my class wrapped up on Tuesday afternoons? I hit the road to recruit more students to come to post-secondary education!

I expected the winter to be more quiet and a time to regroup, but instead I published my MA research paper, did a juice cleanse, and travelled more for work.

During one of said travels, I was having a conversation with a couple of Native colleagues. We were talking about the work we do in our 9-5's and our activism and community engagements on evenings and weekends.

"It's exhausting being Indigenous sometimes," one bemused.

We got onto the topic of books. After flexing our academic muscles and talking about what books we were reading by Native authors, the conversation quickly turned to "fun" books as we got talking about everything from sci-fi to Jodi Picoult.

"Sometimes you just have to take a time out and read a fun book."

I took her advice. I didn't completely tune out the news, but I allowed myself the luxury of reading for fun, skipping out on a rally or two, and I let myself off the hook for not being the first to know of each major development in First Nations rights and crises.

I napped. But, rather than it being an hour-long after work nap, it was a 2-month long post-activist nap. I was a Naptivist, if you will. I woke up from this one, not kicking myself for falling so far behind, but feeling refreshed, clear and ready to get back on track.

Outfit Fit for a Chief

I've always loved fashion, but never been one to fret over what I wore.

When I was a girl living on the rez, I would walk to the K.Z. Store to get the latest Seventeen or YM magazines and plow through them, entranced by the glossy pages that featured beautiful girls, interesting makeup that I longed to touch and, above all, fashion. In fact, I was so into the industry back then that in sixth grade I am quoted in the yearbook saying that my greatest goal in life was to shop at the world's biggest mall: the Edmonton Mall. (Which I've achieved, in case you're wondering, twice-over. Guess I'll have to find a new purpose for life.)

That being said, I never worried too much about clothes. I have confidence in my fashion sense (stick with the classics with a sprinkling of trends is my motto) and I've always seemed to have enough luck at being neither under- nor over-dressed.

But, I have a big day at work next week and... I don't know what to wear!

I am proud to say that I've been liaising between members of my community and the university where I work to form and foster a tangible, mutually-beneficial partnership. On Tuesday, our Chief and Director of Education are coming to the university for three meetings and a lunch, and I will be there throughout the day.

So I've narrowed it my outfit choices down to four options:

1. The Suit


You can never go wrong with a classic black suit, right? Not necessarily. Our Chief dresses well, but I can't remember ever seeing him in a full suit and tie. He's more of the ribbon shirt and vest type.

Although I think dressing to the nines to show that a Chief commands that level of respect is important, a suit might also give the impression that the university is a stuffy, pretentious kind of place, so it's not my #1 choice.

2. The Tailored Dress


This dress is only ever-so-slightly less casual than the suit because it's equally structured. But it seems to convey a much less... stuffy, for lack of a new word, message. I'm liking this option, partially because it's my lucky interview dress! And I have a hot pink skinny belt that I can wear with it to add a little flair.

3. The Cardigan


Now we're moving into the more casual options. This outfit - black pants and a gray cardigan - is something I would wear to work any day of the week. I consider it one of those outfits where you can't go wrong. It looks professional enough for a last minute meeting, but it's not so serious that I couldn't still relate to students. But, for this purpose, I'm a little lukewarm on the cardigan.

4. The Wild Card


Although this type of outfit might be a little too laid back, I keep gravitating toward it for some reason. It's a fitted blazer that's made of gray jersey (sweatshirt-like) material. I don't think I could wear it with anything other than jeans, and I don't think denim would be appropriate. So, maybe I shouldn't be considering it, but I can't help it! This cardigan is fun, friendly and fresh.

I'm so glad that I have the weekend examine these four options more carefully before I make this very important decision!

My Treadmill & Me

About a month ago, my boyfriend R.J. convinced me that we should buy a treadmill. I was hesitant; I've heard too many stories of treadmills becoming clothes hangers (not to mention that there always seems to be a treadmill on any episode/clip of Hoarders).

Nearly three weeks had passed and neither of us had touched it. R.J.'s grandmother put us to serious shame, logging in a total of 15 minutes during her two week stay with us in August. The cold, plastic-y smell of its new material taunted me upon my return home from work each day. Although it stood in the furthest corner of our apartment, I knew it was there: a lonely, unused treadmill.


A couple of weeks later, my guilt was replaced by apathy. I can say that I kind of forgot it was there, but really, I just didn't care that I wasn't using it. Then - I decided to weigh myself.

Baaaaad decision. Weighing myself often makes me feel horrible, as I'm sure it does for many other women (and men - but let's face it, women "have" higher standards to live up to). I know when I'm gaining weight (my clothes feel tighter) and why (I'm neither exercising nor eating healthy). So why do I do it? Why do I step onto the fancy scale R.J. bought, which uses our heights and ages to determine our body fat percentage and all kinds of other stuff? Maybe my subconscious, who isn't quite as apathetic as my conscience, nudged me on.

I won't provide a number, because numbers don't say much. I am probably still within my BMI, but the fact is I feel like crap. And that has to change now! Yes, we can!

So, I am starting a running program. I broke my treadmill in last Thursday and have been on it twice since then. Granted, I am walking for six minutes and running for one (eventually working my way up to a half hour run), but still.

Wish me luck!

Struggle to Publish

So, I have come to an interesting point in my journey as a scholar: the end.

Well, that might be a little dramatic. As I said in my previous post, "Life lived like a story", I love learning and, more specifically, being a student and would love to someday go back to grad school for a PhD.

I've finished my M.A. and, for the first time in my life, I am not a student. Gasp! Needless to say as a lifelong nerd, I feel a slight void (but luckily that feeling has been tempered by the new job at a university I began almost immediately upon graduation). But I still find myself stealing moments away from my day to browse PhD programs, google scholars and scan journals. I think it is clearly where my heart is.

In order to satiate the nerd within me, I have settled on applying for 2011's Graduate Horizons so that I can explore whether it's possible for me to go to school in the U.S. Well, anything is possible, I guess exploring whether it is do-able is more accurate. (Or is that the same thing?)

Between now and then I am going to concentrate on making myself more PhD-ready. I've already had the amazing opportunity to co-author a chapter for a book with a professor and a Harvard-educated PhD candidate, both of whom I admire.

Now I come to my current dilemma: my struggle to publish. I was very proud of my MA research essay. And, I was happy that my three graders seemed to feel the same way. I knew that I wanted to share my essay with others, having only shared it with my family at this point, and my graders encouraged doing so in their marking scheme...

But I can't start!


Up until now I've blamed my new job. It's been an adjustment and existing within a learning curve can be tiring. So, I'm not going to apologize for that. But every night this week I've wanted to start looking at my essay again, start sending it to friends who've been asking to read it, start e-mailing it to some of the professors who've helped me along the way to ask for advice.

I couldn't understand what was going on. It wasn't my normal procrastination, which usually only happens when I really don't want to do something. I want badly to get rolling, revise and submit my essay. (Whether to submit it to my "dream" journal, SAIL, or a lesser known journal - so much lesser that I don't even have one to name - is yet another untied end.) But I just couldn't.

Then I met with one of my graders who, until that moment, had been 'blind.' Our conversation inevitably turned to my essay and the possibility of publishing. After coming clean about my recent struggles, I was delighted to learn that I wasn't alone. As a newly 'crowned' (haha) PhD she had several publishers knocking on her door, but she's been sitting on her dissertation for two years.

Suddenly three months doesn't seem so bad. I just hope it doesn't turn into three years.