My view on slut-shaming.

Ok, here it is.
I do have a few feminist friends, and while I am not one by a far stretch myself, I couldn't help but notice a new trend that they seem to be fighting: slut-shaming.
Let me just start off by saying I am aware that society is evolving. I am proud of this. While I am not gay myself, I do support them, because I know that love is a basic need and that it is not a choice. I will not go so far as to say that I understand it, the same way I don't understand why some people don't like chocolate, but I can grasp that they are different and that's ok.
I am for diverse religions, because I understand that  believing in a higher power, whether it be a god or a science, is a basic instinct in humans, especially since it naturally builds communities. I am completely tolerant of other races, since it is not a choice, and also I think food from other countries is freaking delicious. I am far from stereotyping others (although I do argue against the people who think there shouldn't be any, because, hello, these stereotypes come from somewhere.*)

This being said, I do draw a line at slut-shaming.
Just bear with me here.
We judge. Don't pretend you don't because you do, absolutely unconsciously. And that's ok. It's our first line of defence as humans living in a society. You make choices based on other people, probably more often than you think. I don't dye my hair pink, because I don't want to project that image. I don't wear heavy makeup, because I don't want to associate myself with that kind of idea.  I don't wear much jewelry, because I don't want people to think I'm that kind of person. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Each thing I said made that idea pop into your head, whether you approved of that type of person or not, whether you would affiliate yourself with that type of person or not. There are a million other things I don't do, or I do do, so that when people see me, they think a certain way about me. And so do you. Which is where slut-shaming comes into play.

Slut-shaming is not a thing. I'm sorry, it's not. The way a girl dresses is entirely her choice... Much not the same as culture, skin colour, beliefs, values and sexual orientation. Same with guys, actually. If a guy with a gorgeous body is prancing around in nothing but underwear, I'm sorry, I will gawk. And most probably drool. Which is exactly what he wanted, because or else he would have put a shirt on. Now re-read that sentence, but switch out "guy" with "girl". Here, I'll do it for you. If a girl with a gorgeous body is prancing around in nothing but underwear, I'm sorry, I will gawk. Ahh. Did anything change? Is it less disrespectful of an individual's body and intimacy?
To the people saying "Stop the 'slut-shaming'", I say: You are right, it is her choice. You are right, she does have the right to dress the way she wants, especially in a diplomatic society and a free country.  You are right, just because she's dressed like that does not mean she should be a victim of rape (seriously, guys, keep it in your pants. It's a serious issue). However, you are wrong. She will project that image of herself, she wants to project that image of herself. She wants to seem approachable, sexy, (dare I say it?) easy, ect. and she will. Because we've been taught that lingerie is for the bedroom, and if you bring that out in public, people will picture you in the bedroom. So get over yourself. People judge, it's good. If you don't think the way they judge you is good, then it's your problem, do something about it.


*Smart-ass comment: As a blonde, I would like to introduce the fact that blondes have more sulfur (which is why their hair is that color), which promotes creativity. The right side of the brain being more stimulated than the left side, it is said that blondes are "dumb", as logic is not their strong suit. Perfect example of a stereotype: Not necessarily true, but supported.


TL;DR: Stop being so over-sensitive when you wear something provocative. No, you can't demand the right to be respected if you don't respect yourself. 

Scary big town

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while, nothing really interesting happened and this blog was starting to look like my diary.

So I did start my job, and everything is going rather smoothly, and I'm 8 days away from my first  exam, which is really, really, really nerve racking, because it's a math exam and it's, um, less than 194 hours away (I'm really hoping I got this right, because or else I'm doomed). I'm not even sure how he'll fill in two hours and fifty minutes of material on the exam, because we've only been in school for three weeks at this point.

Which brings me to the next point. Last thursday, I may or may not have walked out of class early, despite telling myself not to (But really we were just doing chem problems and the questions were getting kind of stupid), but don't you worry, it came back to bite me in the butt pretty hard. A guy walked out at the same time as me, and we started talking. On the metro, he asked me for my number, but I told him that I didn't know it by heart and let him put his in my phone - that way, he could only get my number if I texted him... ya dig?
Anyway, an hour later he'd managed to find me on the school site using only my nickname (which, to be fair, is not a stretch from my first name), send me an e-mail to my private address saying we should "meet up and discuss" and add me on facebook. Also, his facebook name wasn't the same he'd given me on the metro.
I think for the first time in my life I actually lost it. I was hyperventilating and crying by the time I called my friend, who did a wonderful job calming me down (so if she's reading this right now, thanks for that, K).
I did try to switch classes, but I couldn't for technical reasons, so yesterday when I ran into him as I walked into class (of course, I'd never seen this guy before and now he's everywhere), I completely ignored him. Same with when he sat down beside me.
Oh, and he talks to himself while he does chemistry. If I hadn't been so creeped out, I would have threatened to shove a pen down his throat if he didn't stop. Kiddiiiiing!

I also asked a question about a bio class on the forum (du genre: "Hey, I wasn't there for the first fifteen minutes, I can't find which powerpoint slide the teacher started with, can someone recap?"), which prompted a response, but also a friend request by a ex-moroccian-doctor that doesn't understand that I in fact do understand biology, and no, I really don't want to "meet up and work on it together." (I'm paraphrasing and translating, but no worries, there is no loss in translation issues here. This is actually happening.)

So far, the most interesting moment of my day is still taking the metro, where everything I can't imagine has happened, including some old drunk dude offering me beer and sign languaging something about an arrow and a thumbs up to me.

I did make a few new friends (My age, or almost, thankfully), so that is pretty exciting, seeing as I definitely thought I'd be the hermit type of student.

Anyway, my thirty minutes of grace is up (I went to bed at 1:30 after finishing a couple things, and set my alarm at 6:15 before realising I only had to be out the door at 7:30 after all. I then decided if I went back to bed, I would die and never get up again.), so I shall be going.

Until next time!
     ~Vero

Oppa Campus Style

I'm sorry for the title, it sounded better in my head.

Walking on campus, I saw a girl set up her portable hammock (I'm guessing all hammocks are portable, though?)  between two trees and then lie down in it and read a book. Which basically seems like the best idea ever. I might have to invest in one of those.

I also met my fourth and final teacher, who is the type to make up play ice breaker games and talks about her husband all the time. And who also drops statements like "I am feminist, so, no, I don't wear a bra." out of nowhere, in the middle of her lecture. I don't know, I think I'm scarred, and I'm a woman, I wish I'd seen the face of the guy sitting in front of me.
I also met (during an ice-breaker game, of course) a girl that comes from Ontario, who wants to end up in either forensics or genetics and who sings. Like, another girl, not me. What. Are. The. Odds. (ok, I promise it's the last time I write like that, but I just really had to prove how flabbergasted I was and that seemed like the best option). But honestly, I'm pretty amazed by this, and she seems really nice, so hopefully we'll get along.

I've decided not to drop my math class and to get myself a tutor (I've also resigned to the fact that I'll be seeing a lot of my math teacher, if he accepts to help me after class. I've started to warm to him, but only because he does an awkward little dance whenever he erases the blackboard and I think it's adorable), which means I'm going to need that job. Which brings me to my next adventure.

I need to take a french test in order to prove that my french is good enough to study at UdeM. Which I, while being somewhat nervous about it, don't mind, but then they send me another e-mail saying the time is switched to 2 pm, today. Today, at 1pm, my training starts. After numerous e-mails and calls (none of which they answered to), I finally call the university directly, and they transfer me to the center, where they inform me that without a death or a medical reason, I can't switch it. After some bargaining, the girl finally gives me another date. Thank God.

I also saw a guy in a full tiger suit, tail and all casually strolling getting off the metro and strolling to class, head phones and everything. Swag.

School and adulting

I was going to write adultery in the title, but that's a completely different thing.

So school started three days ago (as opposed to Ontario, who started yesterday), and I'm already falling into the routine of school, which is awesome, but work proves to be a hassle, and it hasn't even started yet.

I've met two people so far, one my age and one a little bit older, so I don't think I'll be great friends with the second one (Let's call her Mel for now), but she's in both my chem and my bio class, so at least I'll have someone to copy notes off if I'm not there.

The first one (Let's call him E-man in honour of Dee, who came up with the nickname) is a little bit more interesting, probably because he's male and my age and really nice.

A part from that, I hate my math class so I'm dropping it, am loving my chem class (great teacher, great group of people) and absolutely adore my bio class. My teacher is 64, retireing in 10 months and absolutely doesn't give a shit about anything. And yet he's awesome: He's passionate about biology, loves photography (like moi!) and has the best sayings (I'll be posting some on the blog whenever I remember them.).

I'm typing this in math class as we wait for the teacher whom I loathe, but class is about to start, so I'll let you go.

Until next time,

~Vero.

Best of luck

If I were able to tell stories, I would honestly be a hit at parties. No, really.
The best (or worst, depending on the point of view) things happen to me all the time. Like that time I was skiing and there was a fence and I didn't stop and made a gigantic hole in a wooden fence. Right after sliding in a bamboo stick and literally making it explode it the run before. (Yeah, the second ski trip wasn't a good idea.)
Anyway, today I received an e-mail saying that there was a session d'acceuil at the University at 1:30. I got the e-mail at 12:10, and it takes about 45 minutes to get there, if I find the place right away. You do the math. There was no problem, except for the fact that I was supposed to call my boss at around 1ish to talk to him about my work schedule. Being me, I took a while to make a decision and at around 12:40, I called him up and made a raincheck. I was going to be cutting it short, but it was ok. Then, I couldn't find my bag. In a fit of frenzy, I shoved everything I might need in another one, and ran out the door.

As I was speed-walking down my street (I knew I had about 5 minutes before the next bus, as I take this bus almost every day.), to my surprise, I saw my bus pull up. I booked it, crossed the road, almost got hit, thanked the bus driver for waiting, and sat down, and then booked an appointement for the next day in my phone. Then I looked up. Nothing looked familiar. I asked the bus driver where we were going.
And that's when I realized I took the bus on the wrong side of the street.