I honestly want to say that I feel, ecstatic. I am about to start a journalism program, at a really cool campus just outside the heart of downtown. I don’t what’s more exciting for me, being inside an educational institute for 18 hours a week in lecture time, or the guaranteed work position with a local paper (come onnnn Beaches). I spent the week doing much-needed housekeeping with finalizing my registration.

“They’re quick to take my tuition, but didn’t get me put into all my courses until the week before classes”

At the same time as this hectic and grudgingly slow process, my house Is getting a make-over! I guess this is what happens when your mother has nothing better to do, other than to continuously improve the house aesthetic. To be honest, our house is actually very old, the floor on the ground floor had not one, but four subflooring. Needless to say, my allergies and eczema weren’t going to stand for that abuse. I spend much of August having trouble breathing, ridden by allergens, in addition to the seasonal pollen. What a month to have it too, August is packed with end of. summer fun!

It doesn’t matter to me that much, I just won’t be able to confidently woo the ladies. On second thought, I think that excuse has worn thin; I’ve been saying that for the better part of 6 years. August always brings FanEXPO, and since this is the summer I discovered my love for photography, I took a lot of pictures. The costumes were unbelievable, the community is full of great people! Come to think of it, it’s probably in the same arena as metal music (same arena, but definitely not the nearly the same level). There were disabled individuals (visibly disabled, of course) treated as if they were just normal people just walking around, those who relied on assistive devices (such as wheelchairs) were even in costume!

I would’ve snapped a few photos, but they were all on a mission of some sort.

The first year I went, Amy Jo Johnson was there. Also, this guy was ahead of me with his sister and he had bought all this memorabilia for her to sign. He had his sister there and he was dressed as the green ranger or something. Anyway, Amy had treated them so well, I suppose they came with cash and that’s why. I had just finished my shift (I was volunteering that year) and just by chance, she was about to start signing autographs, so I had joined the line. Long story short, Amy treated me like garbage, I just wanted to talk to her, I told her that all my friends were in love with her, and she responded rather unabashedly with a laugh, and she said: “I’ve heard that before”. I don’t know if she is like that in real life, I definitely don’t think so, but I was so embarrassed.

I went to the nearest coffee shop, which happened to be a Second Cup, and drank coffee in absolute silence. Until I just snapped and blindly threw a program behind my back. Almost hitting this woman who was shaking in her chair. To tell you the truth, I didn’t even care, until a couple days later, and probably for the rest of my life. I guess I just had put so much importance on meeting Amy Jo Johnson, that I was crushed and disappointed in my self that I wasn’t better. Well this year, I saw that guy again dressed in the same green ranger outfit. He passed by me and probably didn’t even flinch when I had passed him.

Whatever, fuck him with a bag of dicks.

I wouldn’t call that A+ writing, the above line; probably not the kind of stuff my Journalism instructors are going to be looking for. I’m a bit of a rebel, I don’t believe certain rules and stereotypes should exist, but the mere fact they do is evidence that they should for the most part.

Despite how an outlier may feel.

So it turned out that feminism has had a role to play in me being not liked, or “to be treated with caution” by the Journalism faculty. It was because I wouldn’t adhere to strong left-wing political movement pockets and the social justice brigade clique must have spun my image in a bad light.

Well, not must, they did. I can’t tell you the countless bars and music venues that I haven’t been allowed in or festivals that I have been prematurely removed from. Luckily I spend more time just taking pictures than writing about things this summer. It’s a backward down-up world, where people don’t like me because I won’t do or agree with something, yet they’ll ask me for advice and read the advice I have given other people on Quora.

It’s not really that weird, it’s actually a very human thing to do.