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Why I’m Not Freaking Out About The Apocalypse

COVID-19 and MS

If you know me at all, you’re probably assuming that COVID-19 has me camped out in a bunker somewhere in rural Ontario, wearing a Hazmat suit, and holding a shot-gun to protect my lifetime supply of Miss Vickie’s chips while I ride out the apocalypse. After all, I have MS, which puts me closer to the top of the deadly virus’ enemies list, right?

Actually, I’m at home in Toronto, still in my pyjamas. My doomsday stash includes nothing more than an extra month’s supply of catheters, and none-of-your-business bottles of wine. Technically, I’m isolated, but that’s nothing new; and anyway, it’s only for a few hours, because I’m going out for dinner with friends tonight, and before you clutch your pearls in horror at my extreme risk taking, here’s how I feel about it:

As someone living with MS, the consequences of any infection can lead to actual relapses that can cause real, and possibly permanent, damage. Add to that years of immuno-modulating medications, and I am always on high alert.

Every. Single. Day.

So, how come I’m not wigging out now?

This is my normal.

My tolerance for worst-case-scenario daymares is admittedly pretty high. Been there, done that. But in some ways I actually feel safer now, because people are finally washing their damn hands and staying home when they have a sniffle. In other ways, I feel like maybe, just maybe, people are getting a taste of what it feels like to live with the kind of anxiety that comes with a serious health threat. 

The world’s reaction

It’s interesting to see what’s possible when the health of—let’s face it— the people we value most, is threatened. In Canada, the government has eliminated the one-week waiting period for EI benefits for workers who are quarantined. Employers are figuring out how much work can actually be done from home. Concessions that were deemed impossible for people with disabilities have suddenly become options for the general population. Hmm.

Meanwhile, the public is being constantly reassured that this virus is really only taking out the elderly and those with underlying conditions. Let’s be clear: this is a not-so-subtle nod to the belief that those lives are less valuable anyway. And PS, we can hear you. 

If you find yourself struggling with the social impact that comes with self-isolating, consider the loneliness, frustration, fear, and straight-up lack of access that many people with chronic illnesses deal with on the regular.

What will we learn from COVID-19?

When the dust settles, I hope we are changed from a culture that prioritizes work and showing up above all else, to one that embraces wellness and considers the safety and well-being of everyone. If we no longer reward people for going to work when they’re sick, but support them in their recovery, everyone wins. 

Stay safe and look out for each other. These are strange and unfamiliar times. Let us be grateful for Netflix and liquor store deliveries. Amen.

We will get through this.

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Ever wondered if you have other diseases?

Recently, Tripping On Air was recognized as a Top MS Blog by Healthlabs and that was super nice of them, but it’s good news for you guys too because, they’re giving TOA readers 10 FREE Comprehensive Health Test panels, where you can find out cool things like, your blood type or whether or not you have anemia. Non-Trippers shell out a whopping 99 bucks for this kinda intel. 

Cool. But, is there a catch? You have to be American. 

What? That’s not fair! Relax, hosers. Canada already gets this for free. 

So, if you’re in America and you wanna find out about your lipids and your liver function, call 1-800-579-3914 and ask for your free comprehensive health test panel. You don’t need a doctor’s referral, you just need to name drop Tripping On Air. They will hook you up with a lab nearby where you can provide your blood sample. You’ll get results by email a day or two later. If you’re one of the lucky 10, lemme know how you made out. Don’t like, tell me how your kidneys are functioning – that’s confidential. But I’d love to hear how their service was. 

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The Importance of Pretty: Beauty and MS

Lisa Dryer and Tori Davies-Wompey are on a mission to bring beauty back to women with multiple sclerosis. Not that it went anywhere. It’s just been hiding. 

From the moment of diagnosis, people with MS learn about what they stand to lose. The list of physical symptoms is too long and too depressing to detail here, and anyway, lots has already been written about this.

What the pamphlets and WebMD don’t tell you, is how this disease can erode your self-perception, your self-image. MS can be a straight-up, joy-sucking Dementor, and vain as this might sound to those who’ve never had to think about it, MS can steal your beauty.    

Wait, what? MS can wreck your pretty?

MS takes and takes, and while it can’t actually turn you into a human gargoyle, it can make you think you’re one, and that’s just as bad. Tori Davies-Wompey, one of the women behind #MSbeautiful, says “I think MS steals so much from us. Our jobs, our abilities, our roles as daughters, wives, mothers, whatever it was that you did before that you can’t do now”. That’s a heavy list. But why stop there? Maybe you’ve had to give up heels. Maybe you’re covered in injection welts and bruises, maybe steroids have taken over your face. 

Maybe you’ve peed your pants

Any one of these things can make it hard to recognize your inner goddess let alone celebrate her. 

Founder, Lisa Dryer was mid-relapse and struggling with these issues when she knew something had to change. With the help and encouragement of professional photographer and close friend, Al Murin,  #MSbeautiful was born.

Cool hashtag, but what exactly is #MSbeautiful?

#MSbeautiful is an event that brings women together for a no-cost day of pampering and glamour, complete with hair, make-up, and even swag bags. The events are an opportunity for women to support each other, reclaim themselves, and raise self-esteem. Each event culminates in a professional photo-shoot. They’ve already held successful events in Ohio, Texas, and Wisconsin, with Colorado on deck. Lisa’s goal is to be in every state and here’s hoping that eventually #MSbeautiful extends past the US border.  

So, Lisa and Tori have MS? Why are they doing this?

Lisa and Tori seem to know that in helping others we help ourselves and when Al Murin passed away unexpectedly last year, Lisa became passionate about continuing the mission they had started together. Tori says her work with #MSbeautiful is rewarding, that it gives her a sense of purpose. Says Lisa, “Looking at happy people makes me happier…But making people happy is even better. Giving people a little bit of fairy tale in their day. Amazing.”

Ok, but like, does lipstick cure MS?

If this superficial need to feel pretty is beneath you, then congratulations, you’re better than me. And if you’re pretty without makeup, well, bless your heart. Go forth and multiply. Personally, I believe more in blow-outs and bronzer than in actual, natural beauty, but Lisa (she really is better than me), believes everyone is inherently beautiful; that the things that make us beautiful extend beyond the surface and include “creativity, talent, smarts…what make you you”. She isn’t afraid to go on camera looking undone. She says women need to see that side of it too. It’s not about being an idealized version of yourself. It’s about how you feel. 

Knowing a bit of glam can’t fix broken self-esteem, let alone cure MS, Lisa’s vision is to provide at least one amazing day, where we can escape a bit. And it’s working. Tori says “feeling pretty…makes me feel just a little bit human again”. Are we seriously gonna deny her her humanity? Get this girl to a MAC counter. 


Wait. Are you saying disability can be beautiful?

One #MSbeautiful participant had this to say “As a woman with Multiple Sclerosis, it is very rare to feel beautiful, or as the center of attention for the way that I look. I am no stranger to getting stared at. Generally, I try to ignore people who look at my walking device, such as my walker or cane.”

Lisa and Tori know this is bullshit. Society has told us a bunch of lies about disability. In a disease where one has little control, claiming one’s beauty is about taking control back. #MSbeautiful is about being empowered to say: 

I’m worth this. I deserve to be here. I deserve to be seen.  

Are Lisa and Tori #changing the world?

Positive examples of disability in media are few and far between. Disability is underrepresented, misrepresented or just plain ignored and women with chronic illnesses like MS are left to conclude that disability, visible or invisible, isn’t part of the conversation, isn’t relevant. Simply put, isn’t beautiful. Lisa and Tori are calling this out and replacing the void with awesome images of real women in all stages of MS.  

When Tori talks about how using a walker, and sometimes wheelchair, messed with her idea of herself, it clicks for me. Tori’s a babe. Tori uses walkers and wheelchairs. Me too. If Tori can be kick-ass, it reminds me that, so can I. 

Seeing her beauty helps me see mine 

and I realize just how powerful this campaign is. When women are empowered, it’s contagious. We need to see ourselves reflected back.

Swag bags and paparazzi? I want in.

These ladies want you to know that disability does not disqualify you from being beautiful. Join the #MSbeautiful Facebook group. Start using the hashtag on your selfies. If you want to participate in an event in your town, look for info on their FB page. 

Hold up. I’m a dude. Can I come too?

No. #MSbeautiful is about women empowering women in a safe space. And while we know you need to feel pretty too, we’re sure you understand. Men are also affected by MS and many have faced similar issues, but this particular project is just for the ladies. So, sorry guys. You’ll have to get your own thing. Might I suggest #MSdudeiful?

Until next time, stay pretty, Trippers.

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Dear Meryl Streep

At the Golden Globes on Sunday night, Meryl Streep called out Trump for publicly mocking a disabled reporter and then high five’d Hollywood for its inclusiveness, identifying her community as “crawling with outsiders and foreigners”. While I was excited to see a major star use such a huge platform to defend the dignity of Mr. Kovaleski and to speak out against the unjust treatment of persons with disabilities, Hollywood is not yet deserving of a pat on the back for total inclusion, especially as it relates to disability representation.

c Thomas Wolf www.foto-tw.de CC BY-SA 3.0 DE
Across multiple media, including television and film, disability is still grossly underrepresented, misrepresented or just plain ignored. In her speech, Streep said “An actor’s only job is to enter the lives of people who are different from us, and let you feel what that feels like”. But in the world of entertainment, disability stories are little more than stereotypes of victims and burdens, heroes or freaks; lazy tropes that are used to make us feel specific emotions. These careless characterizations are not just hurtful, they’re dangerous. They inform how we see disabled people in real life and lead us to believe they are low status individuals. 

The real stories of disability are still not being told.

The arts are by nature forward thinking and innovative. Media is one of the most effective vehicles to illicit change in hearts and minds. Hollywood has a real opportunity to influence and normalize how we see disability just as it has for other marginalized groups.

So, thank you Ms. Streep, for shedding a massive light on this issue. You’re amazing and I love you, but there’s still work to be done. I hope this encourages more conversation about the accurate and authentic inclusion and representation of disability across all media.

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What I’m Reading

A couple of weeks ago I received a package in the mail. Fellow writer and Tripper Jennifer Evans, had sent me a collection of poems she had compiled, penned by MS’ers about their experiences, called Touching MS, Poetic Expressions.

My first thought was delight; how nice to have received such a thoughtful gift from a stranger.

My second thought was Oh God, amateur disease-poetry. This is going to be terrible.

I poured myself a big glass of wine and decided to give it a peek, because these are my people. To my surprise I ended up reading the whole collection in one sitting, cover to cover. It’s not all Tennyson but some of what I read rang so true to my own experience that I easily could have signed my name to it. (I mean, not enough swearing to convince you I’d actually written any of it, but that is why I don’t write poetry, bitches). 


Don’t be fooled by the flowery cover. There’s nothing sugar-coated about what’s inside. At times hopeful and at times raw, it will remind you that you are not alone.

Like this one from Marie Kane:

Unsinged
Marie Kane

Charcoal fire lights our patio bricks. You turn the steak,
     reveal crosshatch pattern of the grill.
I sit above you on the porch; we are silent as we often are.
     Perhaps you regret serving steak, which you have to cook
and slice, and regret having to clean up this dinner
     with its vegetables and rice, and even rue the decision

to marry me now that I am crippled, not able to do
     as I used to – 
anything, really – and you are so quiet I want to
     make as much
uproar as I can, rail against you for being so
     confoundingly stoic,
You finish grilling, climb the porch stairs, kiss my shoulder,
     and enter the kitchen. I follow, my cane catching the metal
strip at the entrance. I grab the door jamb to keep
     from falling.

“Are you OK?” you ask. There is nothing in the world that
     could make me tell you the truth. You      remove the red 
cowhide grill gloves, fill the white plate with asparagus 
     and rice,
thinly slice the London broil, reserve the most tender for me,
     and with the same steady hands, help me into my chair,
guide it to the most suitable position at the table, present
     my plate,

and light the candles. We eat by their faint glow, and 
     my most
secret self responds to your generosity with embarrassed
     compliments about the food. Later, I watch you sleep,
scent of the grill in your hair, while your hands – 
     unsinged, wide, loose on my breast – 
claim me this night as your own.

Originally published on multiplesclerosisnewstoday

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Stupid Sh*t People Say

One day, when I was in high school, I was riding the city bus when a friend I hadn’t seen since grade school got on. We were both 15 and to my surprise, she was eight months pregnant. When I saw her I gasped, “Michelle! How did this happen?” She rolled her eyes and muttered something about the ignorance of virgins and made her way to the back of the bus. 

Even at 15 I had enough going on to regret the words I’d said as soon as they’d left my big stupid mouth. Years later, I still cringe when I think about it. We all say bone-headed things and I’ve found my own foot in my mouth many times since then. I try to remember this when someone barfs out something mind boggling to me and I tell myself they agonize over their most idiotic declarations as much as I distress over mine.

As someone with an often misunderstood illness, I hear stupid shit with astounding regularity. I’ve learned not to take most of it personally, but sometimes these off the cuff, seemingly innocuous comments can be reflections of questionable beliefs that are deeply imbedded in our society. 

As luck would have it, I’ve been on the receiving end of some of these questionable comments over the last couple of days. In response, I’ve been using my well trained side-eye a little more than usual and so rather than risk pulling a muscle in my face, I’ve decided to call a few things out here. 

My first raised eyebrow was directed towards some classic Dime-Store Philosophy, when a casual acquaintance lamented to me that ‘everything happens for a reason.’


I didn’t bother mentioning that I don’t believe my disease was sent to me for the greater good of teaching me some mystical lesson. I simply glanced at my cane and shrugged, saying I don’t really subscribe to that way of thinking. My philosopher friend then doubled down and said if not for some reason, then karma. Oh? 

Please tell me more about the ancient spiritual principles of Buddhism (you WASPy hipster.)


Since I am a lady and sarcasm is unbecoming, what I actually said was an exceedingly polite and sincere “Karma? Interesting. I wonder what the fuck I did?” My politeness notwithstanding, things wrapped up pretty quickly after that. I get it that lots of people think this way. I may have even believed some of these easy ideologies myself before gaining a little life experience. To each his own. But here’s a bit of free sensitivity training: Don’t say this shit out loud. I mean, know the room. There is tragedy in this world. Assigning a reason to someone else’s suffering is just, ew.


Seriously. Just don’t.



My adventures with verbal faux pas continued into the next day when The Banker and I headed to the baseball game. The good people at The Roger’s Centre have a service where those requiring assistance can be met at the gate with a wheelchair and brought to their seats. I decided to take advantage of this in the interest of saving myself from a long walk, stairs, and crowds that can be hostile to my slow gait, and blind to my inability to defend myself against the shoving and jostling that happens in a moving throng of people. These employees are well trained and do a great job. It’s a lovely service and without it I might otherwise have stayed home. 

When we arrived at our section, we were met by another employee whose job it was to direct people to their seats. This attendant did not seem to have received quite the same kind of training as the disability services team. When she saw me rolling up in a wheelchair, she called out loudly:

“Well, aren’t you lucky!” 

Her high pitched, sing-song voice was something usually reserved for speaking to people under the age of seven but it’s a phenomenon that sometimes happens to adults when being spoken to while seated. Strikes one and two and the game hadn’t even started.

The words were ringing in my ears and this wasn’t even the first time I’d heard something like this. Here’s why I’m throwing shade at it. What she said was so obviously wrong, but it’s not what you’re thinking. Okay. It totally is what you’re thinking. In our lazy as hell society, why would I want to walk when someone else can do it for me? I mean, who wouldn’t want that, right? (I heard it. Turns out I’m not much of a lady.)

It’s also this. When someone says ‘Aren’t you lucky?’, it implies that I’m the recipient of some over and above special treatment. Like I’ve won a damn prize. While everyone else at the game deserves to be there, I’m only lucky enough to be there because of the benevolence and generosity of someone else. Yes, it is a great service and I’m happy it exists but it should not be considered a charity and to tell me I ought to feel lucky to have what amounts to the same access as everyone else is diminishing and insulting and not at all what I’m sure the stadium intended. It’s a service that is provided because it’s the right thing to do. It’s the ethical way to run a business. I don’t feel lucky that I’m invited to participate in something like a baseball game. I feel like a valued and equal member of society.

I know there are many places in the world where people with disabilities are not treated with the same regard I was afforded at the Jays’ game. Hell, there are many places in Toronto where that is the case. I appreciate that I’m fortunate to live in a country where progress is being made in terms of how we treat our most vulnerable but it’s comments like ‘aren’t you lucky’ that are indicative of an endemic, misguided attitude towards disability. One that says, You don’t belong here quite as much as the rest of us. And furthermore, We don’t have to include you, but if we do you’d better recognize how magnanimous and charitable we are. I don’t want to sound like some angry cane wagger but this attitude needs to change. Equal access isn’t a benevolent kindness. Under the Ontario Human Rights Code, it’s the law, bitches.

Okay, true confessions time. What’s the stupidest thing someone has said to you? You can only answer if you’re willing to cough up something boneheaded you’ve said. Guys, our heads are made of bone. It’s bound to happen so get it off your chest already.

In the mean time, I’m gonna pour myself a glass of wine and think about the time I complained to a colleague about the incompetence of the guest lecturer we were forced to endure. A guest lecturer who turned out to be my colleague’s mother. Natch.

Disability and Beauty

Dear Trippers,

Tomorrow I start my second round of Lemtrada and I’ll tell you all about it in a couple of weeks.

In the meantime, here’s a piece I wrote for xojane about diversity. Special thanks to Darce and Celia. Seeing your beauty helps me see mine.

xa

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The Frustrating Truth About MS Awareness Month

March is Multiple Sclerosis Awareness Month and you don’t have to tell me twice. Oh, I’m well aware of Multiple Sclerosis. MS screams in my face all day long and then wakes me up at night. 

And thank God it’s almost April, because I’m so sick of seeing orange ribbons everywhere and hearing about MS from every news outlet. 


Oh wait. I mean the opposite of that. 

Sit down. It’s about to get rant-y in here.


Unless we’re talking about a package from Hermès, my favourite colour is decidedly not orange, but as the official colour of MS Awareness Month it’s lack of visibility is actually a little troubling, because we need considerably more awareness. MS is poorly understood, grossly underfunded, and affects a staggering amount of people. 


When we do hear about MS the message is confusing. Even within the MS community we can’t agree on what that message should be. There is significant controversy about how this disease is portrayed in the media, and in drug company ads. The overwhelming majority of what we see are glossy images of young and healthy people doing athletic things, smiling and happy. The kinds of pictures that entice us to try new medications. They’re the pictures of what we all hope to be. They serve to soothe and comfort the public that the number one neurological disease affecting young people worldwide is manageable. They promise good health with a simple pill, maybe a teeny injection. These images are well received by many patients for whom this ideal is even remotely possible, and can be especially comforting to the newly diagnosed who are looking to see what their lives might come to look like.

I totally get this.

When I was diagnosed I read everything I could. It was terrifying. I attended a support group and wanted to throw up the minute I walked in and saw people who looked sick. I never went back. I hated the MS Walk because I couldn’t bear to see people in wheelchairs. Instead of compassion, my own fear was reflected back at me. I felt panicked over my future. Seeing the effects of MS was more than I could handle. These were not my people. I was in my early twenties, dating and pursuing a career. I wanted to see the people who looked like me; the people who were doing well, the people who could reassure me my life wasn’t falling apart. I remember someone pointing out a woman in her 40’s who walked with a cane. I was told “She’s had MS forever and she only needs a cane”. Only? I swore I would never become that sick. As someone newly diagnosed, I wanted to protect myself from the scariest stories; the more images of people with MS pursuing ‘normal’ lives, the better.

At the other end of the controversy are those that are angry at the  ‘normal life’ depiction of MS. Who feel outraged that the dancing, rock climbing, happy, ice-cream eaters are not a true representation of what MS actually looks like. After 15 years of MS, I get this too. I know it’s tragically laughable to promise yourself you will never become so disabled as to need assistance walking, and yet I still hear others make this promise to themselves all the time. I also know how hurtful and utterly douchey it is to say this out loud. For clearly the implication is there are those who simply didn’t try hard enough to keep from progressing. I understand why people are pissed to see this Pollyanna presentation of the disease that looks like a lie for so many and that leaves their experience with it completely ignored and invalidated.

The message about MS is murky because the disease itself is murky. It presents dramatically differently from person to person. Even within the same person from year to year. My own disease looks nothing like the disease I had ten years ago. My story is different now and so is the information I need, want and can handle. As patients we can’t agree on one simple narrative because there isn’t just one. What we all have in common is an uncertain future and a need for more action, for the best minds of medicine and science to attack this head on. Yes, many live a long time without much progression. Tell those stories. 

But tell the other stories too. 

Because as comforting as the best case scenario may seem, there is real danger if we only tell that story. When we sugar-coat the potential of MS we end up in a society under the false impression that MS is under control; that we’ve got it figured out, and shouldn’t we move on to the next thing? We end up in a world where people ask “Why don’t you just take that drug I saw on tv? Doesn’t that fix it?”, or “Didn’t we cure that with stem cells last week?” 

The truth is MS is most definitely not under control. Even if these drugs benefit some, they are only capable of impacting a fraction of MS cases. We’ve spent billions developing new therapies to modify disease – why are so few research projects looking at determining the underlying cause? Because the drugs we have are simply not enough. None provide a cure, and none address the underlying cause. They are wildly expensive and have plenty of serious side effects.

Educating is not about spreading negativity. It’s not about fear mongering. It’s certainly not about failing to celebrate all the wonderful things people with MS on any spectrum of the disease can and do accomplish. But let’s nor forget, MS is a brutal diseaseThere are no guaranteed outcomes but we must give voice to all possible outcomes. We cannot, and we must not, ignore those who embody our worst fears. People with more progressive MS are being erased from the conversation. When we fail to raise any alarms about MS we fail to mobilize the necessary resources to do the research and the work that so desperately needs to be done. It’s in everyone’s best interest to get this thing cured no matter how well you think you’re doing. 
In the MS narrative the story about how you can live a full life with MS already seems to be getting its fair share of attention and that’s good. There’s an important place for that. But we need to tell the whole story. The number of people living with MS is shocking. In Canada alone rates are as high as 1 in 1000 to 1 in 500 in some places. Orange is indeed the colour of MS Awareness. It’s also the colour of warning. We need to sound the alarm. It’s time to tell the whole story.

End rant. 









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So, What Do You Do? Why This Question Sucks.


So, what do you do?’ Innocent, innocuous small talk; an uninspired icebreaker. It’s what we need to know before deciding whether to keep talking or to look for the crab cakes. I get it. We don’t have a lot of time and it’s super important we size each other up with quick and easy labels. But even before I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis (MS), I hated this question.

The question belongs to a society where value is intrinsically linked to work. And the kind of work we do is linked to how much bacon we bring home. This line of interrogation is so inherently North American that most would be surprised to learn it’s considered très rude in European countries like France where talking about oneself is a sign of faiblesse mentale

Mais pourquoi, you ask? 

The French believe that attempting to establish some kind of social order or trying to (gasp) network at a party is tacky, tedious, gauche. What we do for money often doesn’t reveal anything about who we actually are. Because, here’s the skinny:

Lots of people don’t like their jobs. 


Mondays don’t have a bad rap for no reason, and lots of people don’t wanna be judged by whatever it is they’re doing to get by. And anyway, would you talk to me any differently if I were a corporate CEO or an amusement park carny? 

Almost certainly yes.

Okay, carnies are an extreme example, and you probably shouldn’t ask them too many questions anyway, but for the under-employed, unemployed, or those who are without a ‘real’ job, this question is stressful.  Add to this the growing number of people whose job titles are less conventional and require some explanation. Do we really want to get to the heart of what Chandler Bing does all day?

And then there’s disability. Serious illness often impacts careers. In the midst of changing physical abilities and professional identities, having to confront the question of Who am I if I don’t do whatever it is that I used to do is a circumstance most don’t encounter until retirement, and not a question anyone wants to address at a cocktail party. 

As much as I feel I have a pretty good grip on who I am and what I bring to the table, I’ve not yet figured out how to distil this into a socially acceptable party response. “What do you do?” demands a clear-cut, one or two word answer, not an existential essay about how I’m an aunt, friend, volunteer, traveler, activist; a gossiping, wine-drinking smart aleck, part-time concubine, and well, blogger. 

Oh, you’re a blogger? But, what do you REALLY do?
The fact is, I do a lot of stuff. Interesting stuff. But I don’t always get paid in bacon, and isn’t that what you mean?

No doubt, there are people who love asking and being asked, “So, what do you do?” But not because they want to know more about you. More likely they want to blah blah and impress you with their own exciting career, and I’m pretty sure that’s what Instagram is for.
I’m not saying we should never talk shop at a shindig. I’m saying, let’s all take a deep breath and a big sip of sangria before launching into “What do you do”. How we pay the bills shouldn’t be the first thing we find out about each other. 

Fine. What the hell can we talk about?


In the interview for my friendship, or even for my attention, I’d much rather learn about what you’re reading or Netflixing. What’s your favourite brunch spot? Ask me how I know the host, or what I’m drinking. Ask me what I like to do, or how I’m spending my summer. 

The answer is to know yourself and who cares what other people think. But we still need the short answer that satisfies the nosy room. The question will continue to be asked, and since I can’t actually move to France, the next time I’m confronted with “So, what do you do?”, I will shrug and say “Whatever I want”. Then I’ll go find the Carny and ask him what he’s binge-watching with the Bearded Lady. 







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