Arts Curtain Call?

EMC Editorial - I don't usually do too much ranting here, but I desperately need to get a few things off my chest.

I find the recent suspension of Queen's fine arts admissions deeply troubling, as I fear it spells the beginnings of a trend I have dreaded for a very long time now.

Throughout my entire life, I have listened to everyone from political leaders to my parents drone on about how math and science are the most important and useful subjects. Perhaps in an act of rebellion, I completed bachelor and master of arts degrees in English literature.

The kind of people who look down on the fine arts are equally scornful of my educational choices. I stopped caring what these people think of me a long time ago, but I must admit it does bother me when their philosophy starts to sneak its way into the practices of educational institutions.

Lately, even the humanities and social sciences have been getting a bad rap.

Earlier this month, Globe columnist Margaret Wente suggested that the Occupy protesters should blame their own poor choices of what to study in university for the fact that they are now unemployed or underemployed. She lambasted a young woman studying for a master of sociology for her own short-sightedness, claiming that such people need to concentrate less on making the world a better place and more on what employment opportunities are out there.

I guess Wente would prefer if everyone chose their major purely on the basis of in-demand employers, like the companies who run Alberta's tar sands. Let's try that out for a decade, shall we, and see where that lands us. Heaven forbid anyone ever dream of affecting positive change.

But just how much further will a degree in the sciences get you than one in the arts or humanities?

I haven't conducted any formal studies on the topic, but I have watched with interest the career paths of friends and acquaintances my own age who majored in a variety of subjects. Few who graduated in the past decade have jobs "in their field" that are also full-time, permanent and decently gainful. (With the notable exceptions of doctors, nurses and tradespeople.)

A dear friend of mine has a very prestigious, practical degree in environmental sciences. She has worked contracts for the Ministry of Natural Resources for the past five years in well-paying, career-building jobs, but has yet to be given a permanent position.

I know others who have completed engineering degrees and are in similar situations. I hear that many companies require engineer applicants to submit transcripts, and filter candidates out based on university exam writing capabilities. More often than not, a degree is simply not enough to land a good engineering job.

Alas, even the bachelor of education is no longer the ticket it used to be. I can't count the number of new teachers I know who have either sat on supply lists for the better part of a decade waiting to get hired full time or given up on the profession entirely. (Side note: I love running into the many people who quipped "so, you're going to teach" when they found out I was studying English, then rolled their eyes when I answered "no, I'm going to write.")

That's not to say that there aren't just as many underemployed people with arts degrees. It's just that nothing I have witnessed suggests that a bachelor degree in biology, chemistry or even accounting or marketing is truly any more practical than one in art, English or history when it comes to achieving the ultimate goal for most of us: a comfortable, secure life supported by a somewhat interesting or enjoyable job.

I don't claim to have the answer to the economic problems that are clearly the root cause of these issues. But I do believe people should have the right to pursue their interests without judgement and unnecessary roadblocks. How far they go in life will still depend upon who they know, timing and how badly they wish to work in a particular field.

hpratt-campbell@theheritageemc.ca

New look

I'm totally in love with these new Warby Parker glasses that arrived on our doorstep yesterday. I must admit I was a little nervous about ordering prescription glasses online, but the idea appealed to me all the same because I'm so sick of being ripped off at local frame/lens stores. Even with Steve's plan, we usually still end up paying close to $200. At $95 for great quality frames AND lenses, these WPs sounded almost too good to be true, and I pondered for a bit whether I wanted to go through with it.

The last straw was the rude treatment I received from the receptionist at the optometrist's office, who seemed personally offended that I wasn't getting new glasses from the store next to the doctor. She took it to the point of almost not giving me the full information I needed for my own prescription. I left fuming, determined that there was no way I was going to continue supporting such an operation, and placed my order for these "Huxley in Tennessee Whiskey" glasses as soon as I got home. They told me it would take ten business days for them to arrive. It took two. Hooray!

Steve says they make me look like an intellectual from the 1950s. I say great, I can certainly live with that.

Hoarder of the printed word

EMC Editorial - Last week, I had the pleasure of visiting the Kingston Frontenac Public Library's Central Branch for a story on the fantastic local charity Friends of the Library, and it got me thinking about books. That in itself is not too much of a stretch, I suppose, as I seem to be thinking about books most of the time anyway. Specifically, however, my visit to the library made me realize just how rarely I step foot in that fine institution considering my love of reading.

Make no mistake, I am passionate about what the library stands for and the services it provides. If I were still living in Toronto, I would most certainly be among those fighting tooth and nail to make sure the public libraries do not fall victim to the city's looming budget cuts.

The problem is that I have some pretty serious book hoarding issues, and the idea of having to finish and return books in such a limited amount of time does not fit with my reading habits.

What I prefer - and believe me, I'm not proud of this - is wandering around Chapters or Indigo, feasting my eyes on all the beautiful, pristine novels just itching to be cracked open and read for the first time. Usually, I'll leave with at least one new purchase. I'll get the book home and it will sit in a pile with the others, either beside the bed or on the edge of a bookshelf. When I'm feeling blue, I may take it out and lovingly smell and stroke it, running my fingers delicately over the orderly sentences and paragraphs on the back cover.

The advent of e-readers has given me a whole new way to hoard books. While the shopping experience is nowhere near as aesthetically pleasing as spending time in an actual book store, the idea that you purchase the novels online makes attaining them far too easy for the comfort of my husband, who often comments on the devastating consequences my book buying habit inflicts on our credit card balances. Sure, e-books are cheaper, but they're also much more apt to be purchased impulsively. Thus I am left with two additional, albeit virtual, piles of books to read - one on the Kobo and the other on the iPad.

Eventually I do read all these books, although never in the order in which they were purchased. The trouble is that e-readers are still very new to me, and I can't bring myself to make jump completely. Thus, after years and years of continuous book buying, I am left with more paperbacks and hard covers that I know what to do with. They all won't fit on our bookshelves and god knows nobody wants them.

The point I'm trying to make with all this is that I have been searching for something to do with the many boxes and bags of books that have been making our basement look like crap for the last three years. At last, I believe I have found an outlet that will allow me to rid our house of the excess literature, and feel great about it at the same time: Friends of the Library. They are always looking for people to donate books for their daily sales at the Isabel Turner and Central branches, as well as their major annual sale coming up later this month.

The best part is that all proceeds go toward maintaining excellent local library services and programming - all we need to do is look at the situation in Toronto for an example of why public support for libraries is absolutely critical.

I suppose a large part of my motivation comes from the desire to turn my soon-to-arrive daughter into a library person. I'll be thrilled if she shares my passion for reading, but would like to encourage her to borrow books instead of buying them. With any luck, maybe I can break some of my own bad habits along the way.

Little Pink Shoes

Yesterday, Steve and I found out we are having a baby girl. To be honest I was completely shocked, as previously whenever I pictured our baby all I could see was a little boy with blue eyes and dimples. And yet, I couldn't be more happy. I love the idea of having a little girl around who will (probably, fingers crossed) share my love of books, shoes and pretty things. Hopefully, she will someday become a friend too - once she is through her teenage years and has ceased to resent me.

To celebrate, I couldn't resist picking up these adorable pink shoes. I know she won't be able to wear them for a while yet, but just looking at them makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

It's a real bump!

I've totally popped over the last few days and wanted to share. My breasts also seem to have reached National Geographic proportions. They have been growing throughout my pregnancy and were quite sexy for a while but now I just feel enormous. Oh well, I guess that's all part of the fun of growing a baby. Tomorrow we will *probably* be able to find out whether it's a little boy or girl in there and I'm super excited.

Surviving the dos and mostly don'ts of expectant motherhood

EMC Editorial - When it comes to your health, is it possible to be too well-informed?

If you had asked me that question five months ago, my answer would have been a swift and definite "no". Then I got pregnant.

Over the summer, I embarked on a quest for knowledge on how to have the healthiest possible pregnancy with the help of What to Expect When You're Expecting and a plethora of websites dedicated to the education of women who are with child.

The list of dos and don'ts is long and daunting. There are the obvious ones: don't drink alcohol, eat right, try not to fall down the stairs, etc.

Then there are the not-so-obvious. Did you know, for instance, that a woman is supposed to take folic acid tablets daily AT LEAST three months before conception? If you don't, the baby is at a risk of developing neural tube defects. Gee, that's a really helpful piece of information to be told after you're already pregnant. My little embryo hadn't even developed limbs, and already I was feeling like a terrible mother.

Avoiding unpasteurized soft cheeses is another big one. I eat a largely plant-based diet, so this rule is not difficult for me to follow. However, when I do eat cheese it's usually at a restaurant, and almost always of the goat variety. On several occasions, I've had to inquire as to whether the cheese was pasteurized.

Surprisingly, this doesn't seem to be a question regularly posed at restaurants. Responses ranged from pure bewilderment to clearly offended cross-examinations. My personal favourite: "Why would we serve unpasteurized cheese when it's illegal in Ontario?" (For the record, it's not.) Either way, not exactly the best way to kick off a relaxing evening out.

Lately, the advice at the forefront of my mind has been "don't sleep on your back after the first trimester or you'll cut off the oxygen supply to the baby." Admittedly, my first reaction to this rule was "how on earth could the human race survive millennia of evolution if a woman accidentally rolling onto her back in her sleep could kill or severely damage the baby?"

Indeed, when I asked my midwife about it she burst out laughing and advised me to "just sleep". Still, worrying about inhibiting the flow of oxygen to the foetus did lose me more hours of sleep than I'd like to admit.

For me, though, the number one piece of worry-inducing advice that is repeated literally everywhere is this: "pregnancy is a time of weight gain, but you have to be very, very careful not to gain too much otherwise your and the baby's health will be at risk."

Honestly people, are you TRYING to stir up the ghosts of my old disordered eating patterns at a time in my life when they would undoubtedly be more destructive than ever?

Apparently, pregnant women are supposed to eat about 300 extra calories per day, but for every half hour you exercise you add another 150 calories. Healthy eating is an extremely important part of my life, but I purposefully forgot what 300 calories looks like a long time ago and don't care to reacquaint myself.

Full disclosure: I hadn't weighed myself in almost a decade prior to my first prenatal appointment. The nurse took my blood pressure directly after and it was off the charts because I was so nervous.

I actually ended up losing weight in my first trimester due to some nasty, day-long "morning" sickness. Still, the idea of gaining any amount of weight - let alone more than the 30 lbs. you're supposed to - is a very scary thought for me.

Recently, I was talking to my grandma about my many pregnancy worries.

"I sure wouldn't want to be pregnant today," she said. "In my day we just went on with life normally and did our best to stay healthy."

Not bad advice from a woman who gave birth to six healthy children sans pre-pregnancy folic acid. Advice I should probably consider taking.

Hooked on horror

I realized I forgot to post my column from two weeks ago. Here it is...

EMC Editorial - A great man recently tweeted that sometimes all we need is a good scary movie.

I don't know about you, but I love being scared -assuming, that is, that there is no actual danger involved. And it seems there's no better time for vicarious adrenaline thumping than the month of October. To be honest, it's really the only part of the whole Halloween festive season I can get behind.

For years, I've been something of a Halloween scrooge - largely as a result of my dog dying unexpectedly on the night of Oct. 31 when I was 15, and a subsequent string of unpleasant experiences at various parties and ghastly gatherings throughout high school and university.

Put on a truly scary movie, though, and I'm hooked. The only problem is, there aren't that many of them out there. My best friend and I went through a phase as teenagers where we rented pretty much every movie imaginable that was supposed to be scary with discouraging results.

My problem is that while I do appreciate the ironic beauty of a good slasher movie, spewing blood and guts just don't do it for me in the scare department. There has to be something more psychological or paranormal at stake before it really has an effect on me.

For years, the only movie that scared me was The Shining. I saw it for the first time at about 17, and certain images - those two creepy girls, room 237, and the random furries in the bedroom to name a few - stayed with me for a long time. Finally, I bought the DVD, and now I've seen The Shining so many times that all I can really do anymore is appreciate it for the brilliant film it is.

I'm almost embarrassed to admit it because of what a campfest this movie is in actuality, but Signs also scared me the first few times I saw it. Seriously - it's downright terrifying when they're standing in the boarded-up house, waiting for the aliens to find their way in.

More recently, watching Paranormal Activity has kept me up at night on more than one occasion. It was one of those movies that I laughed off at first, but later when I was lying in bed my mind turned to invisible demons whenever the house made even the faintest creak.

It seems finding a genuinely scary movie has become a rare and wonderful treat. Happily, though, October thrills have recently begun to manifest in non-cinematic forms too. Most notably, Fort Fright. I went for the first time two years ago not really expecting much, and ended up feeling more terrified than I've been in years.

I was already pretty impressed with the whole thing, but then on the way out one of the undead British guards latched onto my arm and escorted me all the way to the car, whispering the whole time for me to come back and stay with him. As we drove away, he literally ran after the car - all the way to the bottom of the hill. The friends I was with thought it was hilarious, but I have to admit I was more than a little creeped out on a number of levels.

Then last year there were the clowns. Nothing is scarier than clowns. Period. Especially when they jump out at you from behind a Shining-style hedge maze.

This year, I hear the theme is snakes and crawly things, and personally, I can't wait. I guess when it comes right down to it, it doesn't really matter if the scares are in 2D or 3D - just so long as I know I've paid for them.

hpratt-campbell@theheritageemc.ca