A Revolutionary Christmas Carol

Dear Christmas Shoppers,


The big day is looming over our guilty heads. 


That's right, only four days to clear our conscience by running around like chickens with their heads cut off to finally finish Christmas shopping. How terrible to reduce a time of peace and kinship to sales and gift wrapping plastered with logos. It's sick really, but it is a social expectation that is upheld. Kids want gifts, Parents want to make their children happy. It's easy to criticize, but to be honest I'd be devastated if there were no presents underneath the tree Christmas Morning. It's the idea that material things represent affection that truly drives us to overflow the living room with gifts. Think about it. When a friendship is new, there is always that awkward moment when you exchange gifts. If one friend goes over the top, and the other tries to reciprocate with a modest gift, there are hard feelings. 


So this year, Boyfriend Hipster and I decided to give the gift of time. We aren't going to try to buy each other using packages wrapped up with strings, but rather honor each other with a promise to spend time together. Because he's reading this, I won't reveal my plans. However, know that it may have to do with baking. 

Happy Holidays,


Arctic Hipster


P.S. The following video will change your life. It's called the "Christmas Can Can" by Straight No Chaser. Enjoy.

Pneumonia is the word... among others

 Dear Sickie Sympathiser,


Now it's important that we are all on the same page, be that web page or maybe just metaphorically, but I have been ill for months. 


It started with a throat infection during an extraordinary band competition in May, grew exam week in June, dominated the fabulous road trip to the mountains with my best friend, prospered all the way past my birthday week until this very day. Before my doctor had taken the time to do a chest X-ray last Thursday, we had no idea what could be wrong. The blood work ruled out mono, anemia and the dreaded H1 N1 virus, but provided no relief. My doctor prescribed an inhaler for my cough, and mom made threats with chicken noodle soup. This year I was planing to join the cross country team and maybe try to be sporty despite my disabling klutzyness which had landed me in an ambulance a couple years previous. This year I thought it would be different. 

 Friday morning dashed those hopes with a ninja karate chop to the metaphorical groin. The maternal unit received a phone call from the doc diagnosing me with a worse-than-grounding fate. I have  between a moderate and a severe case of pneumonia. That means antibiotics the size of horse pills three times a day and limited physical activity. In other words, no running. 
Which is sort-of funny, because up to about two weeks ago I was still going for six km excursions in under thirty one minutes. That's about five point one minutes to a klick. I feel pretty good about that, considering my lungs are filled with fluid.

I've had it for months without knowing and have been lucky enough to relatively normally (with a bad cough, chills, head aches and inexplicably chest pains). My pharmacist aunt said the reason I was able to last this long without medical assistance was because of running and staying in physical shape. My friend Oliver, skied in the cold air of the north for such a long time, his throat and lungs became stronger and he no longer gets asthma attacks. But if you are sick, do not take your life into your own hands and run a marathon to beat your respiratory ailment. Know however, an illness is only a word. With the help of a medical practitioner, family and friend's support as well as determination, it won't break you. it may hold you back or delay you, but don't ever let it stop you.
Words are often open to interpretation, so our opinions may differ my gentle reader. In the spirit of vocabulary, here is an Arctic dictionary.




Arctic Hipster: noun
A person who actively practices hippie-like behavior in a north of sixty climate, be that through ideals, environmental awareness, enjoyment of psychedelic music, political opposition, freedom of speech, peaceful aura's, "making love not war", planting trees, food choices and just fighting the power so as not to lose that old fashion free spirit which defines Hippies everywhere.


Inspirational Explosion: Noun
The result of an inspirational happening, encounter, conversation or it might even just happen haphazardly. A burst of ideas free flowing to an individual in a disorganized, un-scheduled, often inconvenient and confusing way. Nevertheless, it can be moving and should be treated with a hot date with a pen and paper until the explosion subsides. Inspirational explosions end as quickly and randomly as they start. Therefore chronic sufferers should keep writing utensils at hand in case of emergencies. 


Old towne: Noun and adjective
1. The part of our town that is closest to the boat launch, docks ext. Stereotypically home to very wholesome people who have lived on that side of our fair city for many generations and will probably continue to do so. We joke that in old towne rotate cutlery because it's such a limited amount of people, who often find themselves attending all the same events, belonging to the same clubs and living about the same virtuous lifestyle ie Eating lentils and rice while discussing the benefits of children having a say about politics. 
Example : So on friday the Smiths have the spoons and all they eat is soup  
My friend Emily does not appreciate this so much because she lives there. However we are a teasing bunch and she tolerates it like a team player. That's why we love her and the whole Old townie gang.
2. A title used for anything wholesome, ethical, homemade, ridiculously heathy, terribly good-for-you, or anyone mature and sensible.

Example: "You knitted your own socks?! How incredibly old towne!"

Parental Units: Noun

A term used to describe parents. Most mothers and fathers do not appreciate this term however (Why is beyond me) and prefer to be called mother and father. 

Synonym: Vadder, Mum, Dad, Mom, Pops, "Da boss lady", Maternal unit, Paternal Unit, female parent, materfamilias, matriarch, mom, mommy, ma, mama, pa, Male parent, xy chromosome, xx chromosome, the bearer of children, Your maker, Parentals

 Mother in Greek: Meter, Dutch: Moeder ,German: Mutter  and Latin: Mater

Example: "Yeah, the parental units grounded me this weekend."

Peter Pan syndrome: Illness
A state where a person refuses or cannot grow up. They lack either the want to mature or the capacity to accept the natural order where people must change and mature in order to continue with their lives. Symptoms include temper tantrums, reckless spending and behavior, immature responses to responsibility ie: You and what army ?, refusing to accept events or facts that are unchangeable, believing all problems will be fixed by someone else, thinking that "Wendy" can just leave her whole life behind her without feeling any sort of attachment. Also has a positive side, people who suffer from Peter Pan syndrome often indulge in childlike luxuries such as afternoon naps, may have cookie addictions, may color to unwind as well as laugh often. 
Example: "Stacy suffers from Peter Pan syndrome. She has been watching all the "Land Before Time" movies for the past twenty four hours. We're starting to worry."




Randomly Lovely: Noun and adjective
1. Used to describe something that is out of the ordinary, a pleasant surprise or an unexpectedly wonderful thing. 
Example: It's pouring rain and you have been standing at an intersection waiting for the light to change for five minutes. You are soaked, but a stranger in a car rolls down their window and offers to drive beside you so you can cross with out being run over. You make it across and the kind stranger continues on their way.
2. A blog written by a teenager in hopes to start her career as an author about things that are just as the name suggests, randomly lovely.


To expanded vocabulary and determination,


Arctic Hipster

A not-so joyful trip to the hospital

 This morning they stuck me. Mom woke me up at the painfully early seven am and rushed me around  so we could be the first in line at the hospital admittance desk.
When we arrived the place smelled of disinfectant and fear. But perhaps that was just me. My mother filled out some forms at the front desk. I contemplated my options. The lobby was close to the entrance, not to far off from where we were. If I sprinted I could be out of here in no time flat. Maybe I could smash the container of a fake potted plant as a distraction.
Before I could make a move, Mom bounded over to where I was sitting with a smile. My mom is pretty, with her curly blonde hair and womanly figure. She's only five foot but can pack a punch. I didn't want to feel her wrath while I was still half dead to the world.
It was hardly five past eight but the sun shone mockingly through the windows in the hallway leading to the labratory. It's if they were laughing at the fact I would be stuck inside a small waiting room without windows, on a glorious summer's day. The sad part is school starts in two days, but I'm so sick I can't bend over without getting light headed.
My mother was sort oblivious to my laboured breathing caused by being congested in the nose and throat areas. She motered it all the way to the lab without turning back. This would have probably been the best time for a clever getaway, but I was half down the hallway already. Turning around would have taken energy that I didn't have.
Sitting in the lab waiting room was awful. Every time the nurse came out of her little cubical to call out the name or the next victim... er patient, my whole body seized up. It was as if my arm knew it was about to be violated by a sharp metal object because it began to twitch. Which was sort of frightening.
Then the moment came. The nurse stepped out and called my name. My heart pounded against my rib cage. I got up slowly and marched as if it was my exacution. Suddenly the room seemed to crowded, the air too hot. 
 I read somewhere that when people become overly frightened they begin to get hysterical. That would explain why I started jabbering away as the nurse closed the door. She held my arm and used a band to push all the skin to the inside of my elbow. My voice got more high pitched the more she played with medical equipment on the counter beside me. I decided not not look at her just in case I caught a glimpse of the needle. 
She responded with clam "mhmm"s whenever I asked her if she understood what I was saying because I just was so terrified of needles and if I yelled at her or maybe thought some terrible thoughts about her it really was not her fault I just was scared silly and did not like sharp pointy things going into my arm and sucking out my blood like a vampire...  And that's when I felt a sharp pain just below the band she had placed on my arm.
It definitively was not a pleasant experience feeling my blood drain trickling out into a tube, but it was necessary and I survived. Perhaps in the future we will discover a way to make certain diagnosis' with saliva. That way, all patients would have to do would be to suck on a lollipop and doctors could analyze that. A sweet alternative to blood work.
For now I'm bearing the pain of a sore arm with a smile, because hopefully all this uncertainty will soon be over. 

In high spirits and low iron levels,

Arctic Hipster

The Pilot Post

 The North is a lovely place to be...

The winters are long and dark, with air so frigid your lungs will ice if you even think about attempting to speed walk to the bus stop. When the ice road closes, our grocery stores are reduced to mainly meat and non perishables (I'm serious, my mother almost killed for the last broccoli). In the spring, the sun mocks all who are driven by their delusions to wear lighter jackets by shining gloriously, despite the biting wind. In the summer, residences are plagued by black flies and miskitos, and the only perfume anyone wears is called "bug spray" designed by Off. 

The Art community is incredible: From local artists to imported talent, the city at the end of the highway is where all the creatives seem to prosper. We have a field house, three ice rinks, an indoor track and multiple gyms. The people are incredibly generous, donating their time and supporting northerners young and old alike. The weather is wild but has a personality, she will use affection when there's a wind storm, sarcasm with the setting of the midnight sun. 


As for me, I share the love of my home with two other generations of Northerners. It is because of my mother's bedtime story regime that I have found a passion in words. 

Did I mention my father is a chef? Now contrary to popular belief this fact does not make being a vegetarian any easier. If anything it makes things three times more difficult because there is always some appetizing aroma of animal origin in our home. Both males in our family are carnivores who do not quite share the same opinions as I do when it comes to food choices, making for interesting dinners. Therefore, I've learned my way around the kitchen quickly and also happened to develop a love for baking. As readers you'll be subject to a few experimental recipes... so ready your spatulas!

Ironically, I'm writing about how brutal winter is while it's the first glorious sunny summer day outside in weeks. The daylight is gradually being reduced because it's after the summer solstice, but it still is bright late at night. However, I think I might just stealthily slip out, trying to stay unnoticed by the parental units, and wander beneath it's rays before I'm too old to be rebellious.  

All in all, my main goal is to fill you in on all the humorous, unusual and slightly random happenings taking place here north of sixty from the perspective of someone actually lives here (unlike most of the filmmakers who create cliche documentaries about our aboriginal heritage) .

Which, to some, might not seem all that interesting. But to even more who are confined indoors during the frosty months, I hope this blog will bring you a bit of entertainment.

Let the sun wrap you in it's warmth before school starts, and take a mental health day to the beach darlings. 

Adieus,

Arctic Hipster