Part of the Process

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Location: British Columbia, Canada

Yeah. I got nothin.

Monday, January 30, 2006

Too Little Too Late

You know those previously promised posts? Well, here's one, twenty four hours after my self imposed deadline, and lacking in whatever style and flow the original (mental) version had contained.

Today in the life of me: classes were slept through, term tests were written, cigarettes were smoked, and next door to the Impulsive abode, the trial of the man accused of being Canada's most prolific serial killer (and the murderer of my childhood horse back riding instructor) began.
There's two problems I have with serial killers. First and foremost, they kill people. This bothers me because generally, people don't deserve to die. And the ones that do deserve it? They're never the ones that end up being killed.
Which brings us to the second problem I have with serial killers: They are the most compelling and oft used example in favour of capital punishment.
Do I think Pickton's life is of value? No. Do I think he deserves to live? No. Don't get me wrong, my distaste for capital punishment is purely technical.
See, sometimes people have to die. And that's okay, because that's the price you pay for being alive in the first place. Accidents happen, people get sick, people get old. But capital punishment is the state's decision to allocate whatever resources, be they time, money, or other, to killing off the people who kill others. This is not a situation where people have to die. And that amounts to a failure of society.
Pickton has been accused of the murders of twenty seven of the over sixty women who have gone missing from the downtown eastside. And therein lies the problem. Sixty women disappeared, and nobody noticed. This isn't about whether or not the police did their job, or how hard it is to trace the disappearances of people who are notorious for popping on and off of the radar on whim, it's about the fact that nobody gave a fuck. The police are a creation of society, and can only operate within the limits imposed on them by society.
Capital punishment is pitched as the last resort used on those who have failed to conform to society. But psychopaths aren't societal failures, they're anomalies. The existence of a subclass of people who are horribly vulnerable to twisted fucks? That's a societal failure.
To be a serial killer, one has to have the ability to kill multiple people. And a large part of that ability lies in not getting caught. When one person is murdered, it's a sad and terrible thing. But once twenty seven women have been murdered, it's the fault of society as a whole as much as it is that of the killer.
Remember those old movies where a child goes missing and the whole town rallies to search for them? How many kids do you think Clifford Olson could have killed had the police realized that these children really were missing? Or if funding cuts had not cause massive rearrangements in the force, and a breakdown of interdepartment communications?
How much did that save us in our taxes?

There was a case in the States when I was pregnant that really struck a nerve. A woman was taken in to custody because she'd neglected her children, who were living in abject poverty. The woman's husband had died a year earlier, and she was alone, jobless, raising however many children. At the time of her arrest, she had no electricity and no running water. When officers went to take the children from their home, they barricaded themselves inside, told officers they had guns, and released dogs to guard the property.
What amazed me was that neighbours watched this family's deterioration, and did nothing until the situation was bad enough to justify charging the mother. Someone went to the police to tell them about the situation. Neighbours knew the story. Yet none of them offered to give her rides into town for groceries. No one could be bothered to babysit so she could get some time to grieve over her husbands loss, or rejoin society. Not one person offered help. Instead, they gossiped about it until the situation deteriorated to the point it did, then used the children's reaction as justification for their actions.
"See, I told you they were all crazy. Good thing we got those kids out of there."
Guess what, fuckwads. No one knows how crazy they would have been had you acted to prevent it.

It's so much easier to punish then prevent. You can never prove that offering help to an abused child kept them from turning to shooting heroin and standing on street corners, but you can watch a man die. You can't prove that providing a job for an at risk teenager kept them from robbing liquor stores, but you can huck them in juvey ten or twenty times. You can't prove that keeping an eye out for your local prostitute and reporting her missing sooner will lead to an arrest sooner and prevent future deaths, but you can watch the creation of the shiniest newiest serial killer in Canadian history.

Capital punishment is sold as a last resort used by a society that has used any other means available to it. But as long as society facilitates absolute and total shit from happening continuously, we have no right to claim "last resort."

You know what I think? Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Vishnu, and that thing in Matt's microwave all agree, "Fuck you bitches. Grow up and get your shit together. You screwed up. Be a society, and admit it."

You sip your coffee
Taking a drag of your smoke
Turning the page
Taking a bite of your toast
Just another day
Just another death
Just one more thing you so easily forget
You and your soft, sheltered life
Just go on and on
For nobody special from your world is gone
Just another day
Just another death
Just another Hastings Street whore
Sentenced to death
The judge's gavel already fallen
Sentence already passed
But you
You just sip your coffee
Washing down your toast.
She was a broken down angel
A child lost with no place
A human being in disguise
She touched my life
She was somebody
She was no whore
She was somebody special
Who just lost her way
She was somebody fighting for life
Trying to survive
A lonely lost child who died
In the night, all alone, scared
Gasping for air.
- Sarah Devries, DNA found on Picton pig farm

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Calling All Americans

It's election day tomorrow, so cross your fingers, knock on wood, pray to whomever the fuck you want to pray to, just hope for us Canucks we can get through this without electing Harper. Oh, and in case of the inevitable, could one of you folks down there hit up Bush's office, and convince him Harper's an underground Muslim? Mention something about big bombs and uranium.
When elections fail, just get the US of A to blow the fucker kingdom come, that's my motto.
Oh, yeah, and please make sure to provide Bush with an accurate map of the location of the Parliment buildings, would ya? Not my house.

Saturday, January 21, 2006


Stolen from Girl With An Alibi. Just run with it.

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Impulsivecompulsive!

  1. It takes 17 muscles to smile, and 43 to frown at impulsivecompulsive!
  2. In Chinese, the sound 'impulsivecompulsive' means 'bite the wax tadpole'.
  3. Fifty-two percent of Americans drink impulsivecompulsive.
  4. Red impulsivecompulsive at night, shepherd's delight. Red impulsivecompulsive at morning, shepherd's warning.
  5. The Vikings believed that the Northern lights were caused by impulsivecompulsive as she rode out to collect warriors slain in battle.
  6. The horns of impulsivecompulsive are made entirely from hair!
  7. Impulsivecompulsive has 118 ridges around the edge.
  8. Snow White's coffin was made of impulsivecompulsive.
  9. Impulsivecompulsive is the world's smallest mammal.
  10. It is bad luck to walk under impulsivecompulsive.
I am interested in - do tell me about


Yes. I know. And I'll get around to it. But you know what I've been doing while not posting? I've had exactly (count them) three weeks worth of classes this semester, of which I've attended exactly (count them) three weeks worth of lectures and handed in exactly (you get the picture) three weeks worth of assignments and done exactly (don't make me say it) three weeks worth of readings.
I am the shit. Student of the fucking year. Oh yeah.
Not only that, but in that time I've only drank on the weekends, and haven't flashed a single tit at a single person. Not one. Let alone two. That makes me maternal, that does. (Technically speaking, that is. If The Kid was still breastfeeding, that would make me very unmaternal. But she's four, ya'll. Get over it.)
Anyway, since my newly reclaimed sense of responsibility has tuckered me right the fuck out, I've got nuthin'. So instead, I shall post a List Of Things To Post, for when the Right Moment Comes Along.
This is all shit that's been rolling around in my head for the past couple of weeks, and is slowly editing itself into oblivion. Someday, I may actually post this. Someday, I may actually admit that I don't edit shit, and if it's made it as far as the mental editing pile, it's doomed for eternity. We'll just see which comes first, won't we?

1) My boobs. That's right, I fully intend to jump on not one, but two bandwagons. The first being modern technology, where by I hook myself up with a digital camera. Or any camera, for that matter. The second being HNT Thursdays. Is that shit still around? Or is it long gone by now? Who cares. If in my newfound responsibility, I'm not flashing my tits in public, the least I can do is post them on the interweb.

2) Serial killers. Oddly enough, this has been in the 'save as draft' bin since before Maine's inflammatory tale of woe. Although according to local authorities, this could be a long, drawn out saga in the life of Me. Didn't that just get you widdling yourselves with anticipation?

3) Why feminists should not boycott porn. More to the point, why feminists should support the porn industry like mofos. Seriously, if I ever get around to writing this, and even editing this, it could make a grade a term paper. I've got the shit reasons.

4) Nope. I think I've run out.


Monday, January 09, 2006

Meme Time

Well, I've got my first meme here, after being tagged by Matt, so here goes:

List Five Weird Things About Me:

1) I have a thing for cleaning. Not my own apartment, mind you, but other people's places. My place is pretty tidy, nothing you'd call compulsively anal, but every time I walk into someone else's place, I just want to clean. Or at the least, rearrange furniture. I'm at the point where when I fade into fantasyland, I'm dreamin' of going back in time to the middle ages, cause man, did they need some serious scrubbing.

2) Speaking of dreaming, I'm capable of fading out into my own little world in the middle of any conversation, with anyone, at any time. Even if I'm the one doing the talking. Oh yeah, you can't hold me to that, cause I have no fucking idea what I've just been saying for the last half hour. I was thinking about how bloody cute ducks are.

3) I have one hundred and one 'weird little quirks'. I think people are supposed to stop at one or two, but I've covered the gamut. I carried a lucky quarter for the last ten years. (Just lost it.) I'm incapable of doing anything that requires even minimal manual dexterity without sticking out my tongue (eg. brushing my hair). I occationally yell at people in my sleep. I'm terrified of the monster under the couch (not bed). I don't like bugs, but find giant african millipedes awfully cute and tickly. The list goes on....

4) Occationally I dissolve into fits of psycho-hypochondria, and diagnose myself as whatever happens to be handy. I then live by the rules of the diagnosis, until eventually forgetting that I've decided to be crazy, and returning to normal. My last self-diagnosis was Borderline Personality Disorder, which I found to be complete justification to temporarily give up on my education, and make everyone around me buy me booze. I must quit allowing myself to skim the DSM-IV.

5) I'm a well versed procrastinator. To avoid reading my textbooks, I've read:
- The dictionary
- The encyclopedia
- The phone book (cover to cover....although I did skim.)
- My dad's old medical textbooks
- Other people's textbooks on completely irrelevant topics (although that strikes me as normal, maybe?)
And that's just things I've read. I've also spent two hours helping others study for their exams, two hours before my exam which I hadn't yet studied for. Not to mention the scrubbing of the fixtures and cabinet hardware with a toothbrush, the burning need to fung shui the entire apartment, the sudden urges to paint the furniture....yeah, you get my drift. Basically, I will do anything for anyone, if it gets me out of doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

So, I Tag Thee:

Sunday, January 08, 2006

Boycott Food Poisoning

And that's all I have to say about that.

I'm going to go relearn how to eat now.


Sunday, January 01, 2006

For Auld Lang Syne

New Years Resolution:
Accept that for every choice I make, there is a choice I didn't take.
Realize that these are my decisions, and that any repercussions accrued from the decisions I make are mine, and mine alone.
Realize that I am me, and that I can't expect to be treated like anything other than me, without first giving up being who I am.
Understand that should I want something to change, I have to make it change. Uncontrolled change is never a good thing. People don't win the lottery, people die.
Understand that should I not choose to make changes happen, I have chosen life to be as it is.
Understand that although I may not get what I want, it's okay as long what I do get, I want even more.
Understand that part of what I want is to just be me, as I am.

Apparently this is my one hundredth post. Let's see where we're at at one thousand, shall we?