Summer in Manitoba

Manitoba's Interlake region is a geographic corridor between Lake Winnipeg and Lake Manitoba in which a number of historic and scenic sights are located for tourist exploration. While on a recent visit to my home province, a good friend and I took advantage of the beautiful weather and embarked on a day trip to visit some of those hotspots. It started with a legendary hot dog and ended with an eerie, allegedly haunted church. 

Skinner's is a Manitoba institution and welcomes visitors at the gateway to the Interlake. I can attest to the fact that their hot dogs are delicious but the ice cream is also worth the drive as well. 

Skinner's is a Manitoba institution and welcomes visitors at the gateway to the Interlake. I can attest to the fact that their hot dogs are delicious but the ice cream is also worth the drive as well. 

Lower Fort Garry is a National Historic Site built in 1830 by the Hudson's Bay Company. In addition to being a centre of commerce and trade, it was also the location in which Treaty No. 1 was established between the federal government and seven Firs…

Lower Fort Garry is a National Historic Site built in 1830 by the Hudson's Bay Company. In addition to being a centre of commerce and trade, it was also the location in which Treaty No. 1 was established between the federal government and seven First Nations chiefs marking the birth of modern Manitoba. 

During the summer, actors recreate life as it would have been during colonial times. 

During the summer, actors recreate life as it would have been during colonial times. 

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Gimli is one of the most beautiful towns in Manitoba. Situated on Lake Winnipeg in the heart of the Interlake, Gimli was traditionally settled by Icelandic immigrants, of which the culture and language is still maintained today. 

Gimli is one of the most beautiful towns in Manitoba. Situated on Lake Winnipeg in the heart of the Interlake, Gimli was traditionally settled by Icelandic immigrants, of which the culture and language is still maintained today. 

The "haunted" St. Andrews Church. My father shared a story of this place on several occasions, the details of which never altered. Either he had a really good memory for random tall tales he scared his kid with or there is something more to the chur…

The "haunted" St. Andrews Church. My father shared a story of this place on several occasions, the details of which never altered. Either he had a really good memory for random tall tales he scared his kid with or there is something more to the church's legend. 

Recommended: Instagram Artists

Growing up, there weren't a lot of avenues to express myself as a budding artist. The internet was in its infancy and social media was a good decade away. Rather, my "audience" consisted of those who sat next to me in class and teachers who took notice of the ever more elaborate doodles that accompanied my homework assignments. This is all it took at the time though; those same individuals were the ones to guide me into a profession that would best allow my talent to flourish. 

Today, Instagram is the perfect tool to build that base to exposure. I often marvel at the work I encounter on it. In between food porn, memes and pictures of adorable puppies, my Instagram feed is also full of doodle art by upcoming female illustrators. They are inspiring in their honesty. vulnerability and skill to narrate visually what it's like to be a single, modern female during an era where we STILL have to fight for equality (and also fend off fuckboys). I admire their hustle in using social platforms to build a following and a business. I feel like the next Lynda Barry is just getting started here. 

I recommend the following:

@marcella.draws:

@vicscribs:

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Philando Castile

One summer evening last year, I was scrolling through my social media feed and came across a tweet by a prominent hometown journalist that stated simply: "this is actually happening right now". A video was linked and the curious side of me decided to take a breather from the rest of the noise and watch whatever was happening in real time. It turned out to be the Philando Castile Facebook Live video. 

I couldn't quite comprehend what was going on and I wasn't entirely certain at first that what was happening before me wasn't a movie clip or some other form of staged "entertainment". I didn't want to believe I was watching someone get murdered right before my eyes. But it was real. Philando Castile's murder by the hands of a Minneapolis police officer was captured on film and broadcast to the world. 

It happened just one day after the murder of another black man, Alton Sterling, also at the hands of a police officer in the United States of America. Amateur video of this was also shared with media. They weren't the only ones, of course; from inception, America's history is inseparable from racism. It is a country that touts rights and freedom for all, but erects invisible barriers to limit it for some.

Prior to today, the officers involved in the Alton Sterling shooting faced no charges. Despite there being video and eyewitness accounts. 

Today, the police officer involved in the Philando Castile case was cleared of all charges. Despite there being video and eyewitness accounts. 

This is an act of injustice. Nothing but systemic racism will be accepted by me as the reason this man died. 

In skimming over the CNN.com homepage this evening, I notice that this is not the feature article but rather a subhead lost amidst all of Trump's many scandals. As I watch my nation's evening newscast, there is no mention of it at all. Granted I'm in Canada but if I can hear about Michael Phelps upcoming race against a shark, surely a verdict in a previously well-publicized, highly political, highly relevant story such as this one merits inclusion.

Unfortunately, for anyone black living in America that absence of coverage hangs as a "to be continued". 

Father's Day

I originally had something much lengthier written. I could write for hours as the words flow through me by way of his muse. I was going to share how he still visits me. Still protects me. Still delivers me signs that there is more to life and death than we could ever comprehend.

But I don't want people to think I'm crazy.

To think that I am making stuff up to make my writing more dramatic or engaging. For even I am not that imaginative. 

But the bigger reason may be because I don't want to share. In a world where most just survive their days, I want to hold this bit of magic close to my heart as a secret only I and his spirit know.

He visits me still.

He protects me still.

The power of love is unbound. 

Prix D'Excellence

Very proud for the continued success of the team I have the opportunity to work with. We recently picked up another award, The Canadian Council for the Advancement of Education (CCAE) Silver Prix D'Excellence for Best PR/Marketing/Communications Initiative for "Catch Your Career Dream", a campaign promoting Indigenous student success stories. The campaign included a wall calendar, social media component and web presence. My role was art/creative direction and design. 

Guided by the principles of reconciliation and a goal to create long-term positive change, the indigenization efforts of the organization I work for holistically integrate Indigenous ways of knowing, teaching and learning into practices, procedures and services. Indigenization is our social and collective responsibility and it enriches and benefits all aspects of our institutional culture.

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Manchester

The first real concert I went to was the Smashing Pumpkins' "Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness" tour. I was sixteen. My mother - yes, my mother - accompanied me. The music was as good as it could have been in an arena that lacked proper acoustics but it was memorable moreso for these two occurrences:

1) when the band's bassist, D'Arcy, decided to make fun of my home and native land (and the crowd appropriately booed her in unison); and, 

2) being thoroughly mortified after running into a much cooler classmate who appeared to be there without either of his parents acting as date for the night. 

The cool. The uncool. Showing adulation or heaping scorn. The concert is a great uniter of people from all backgrounds seeking a common, shared experience through the power of music. Years later, I would return with my mother – yes, my awesome mother – to Winnipeg's newly built arena to witness the commander of BeyoncΓ© in person in which 16,000+ people of all colour and creed danced along to every single beat. Heck, I STILL practice those moves to this day in the privacy of my condo (with the blinds closed). Or how could I forget the epic Paul McCartney show when 33,000+ people filled the evening's amethyst sky with harmony while singing along to "Hey Jude"? I felt chills! It was magic. And I haven't even gotten into the M.I.A. and The Hives shows that have provided some of the greatest moments of my life. 

The concert allows people to unwind together and to dream together, amongst strangers, amongst friends. It invites new memories, while a lyric may initiate reminiscing over old ones. It is supposed to be a safe space for all, if only for one night.

As the world seems to become darker day by day, we must remember that light.