Inside the walls of Parliament’s Centre Block

My expression of excitement to be in Ottawa is one thing, but the joy I felt toward spending the majority of a day on Canada’s Parliament Hill was on a whole other level.

During secondary school travels I’d learned to appreciate Canadian culture and to know when i’m in the presence of outstanding architectural beauty. However, nothing could’ve surprised me more than what magic was contained between the walls of Parliament’s Centre Block.

Two days prior to my adventures inside Parliament, I’d had the opportunity express the ouus and ahhs while wandering the grounds of the hill. Perhaps it was naive to expect its outside appearance was as good as it gets.

Not unlike many of my social encounters… I immediately flirted with the doorman. He’d whole-heartedly greeted me to Canada’s Parliament, at last. Much to my credit, I cheekily exclaimed he had won the Movember competition. Looking back his moustache was comparable to that of  a young Albert Einstein. Without the salt ‘n pepper highlights of course.

Thanks to a new friend of mine, I had front row seats during Question Period that afternoon – sitting directly across from the current Conservative Government. I could not help but notice that two prominent members i’d had the opportunity to work with this past summer… had not come up for air from their cell phones more than twice during the entire QP session. Let’s just say the PR practitioner inside of me was shaking her head with disapproval.

Still on cloud nine from the reality of being present during QP, I continued on my way to join the 3:20pm ‘behind the scenes’ tour of Parliament. My tour guide, also known as Adam, resembled a younger, taller Justin Trudeau. The only thing he lacked was JT’s confident way.

Without detailing every single highlight of the tour, I’ll focus on my favourite.

To no ones surprise, I am not a quiet person. In 9 of 10 situations I have a comment, concern or joke to add. Upon entering the automatic wooden doors of The Parliament Library… this appeared to not be the case. For once, completely speechless.

Okay… prior to entering tour guide Adam had advised us the library was a ‘no-talking zone.’ But even so, I was lost for words.

The library was the only place to remain intact after the fire of 1916. It is featured in the photo i’ve included above.

In my last post labeled, “Our Nation’s Capital” I reflect on my illusions of entering Hogwarts while first wandering the yard of Parliament. Entering the library tripled the effect. Similar to Hogwarts, there was a restricted section. In this case the entire library was restricted. Aside from tours – the library is off limits to all who are not MP’s, staffers or other parliament staff.

My hopes of live-tweeting QP were quickly destroyed when security took everything on my person. Including my belt, sunglasses and scarf. The silver-lining being that I was given the opportunity to walk the senate floor. You know I took a dozen pictures too. The elderly women quickly made jokes about the Senate being where the exchange of unkind words takes place. Clearly they had not attended QP in the House of Commons an hour earlier.

When the tour had concluded I was left to wander on my own. I escaped to the Memorial Tower. A room where all of our deceased, brave, selfless Canadian Veterans, killed in the line-of-duty are named in handwritten books.

I immediately had to know if my great-grand father was named, even though he’d fallen ill during the war and left as early as it began. Not to mention, he wasn’t quite of age to be there in the first place. It’s a weird urgency one feels when you have the chance to make something a more personal experience. Even if it is something as morbid as finding the name of a deceased family-member in a war memorial.

When exiting the third floor, through barred windows – I had a secret view of the House of Commons lobby. I must admit, for a moment I imagined I was a Scottish diplomat or perhaps the Queen of England spying on the commonwealth who’d gathered to demand the grain and raw materials the state had long since promised them.

Maybe I’ve watched The Duchess and The Other Boleyn Girl one too many times.

I took my sweet, sweet time sauntering out of Parliament. I could not help but wonder if i’d missed something worth seeing. Okay… I went as far as to ask a parliament security guard if i’d missed anything. He rolled his eyes and said no. Not one bit jaded by his response i politely thanked everyone I crossed paths with – in hopes they’d remember me 5 years from now when I co-habited this building on a Monday-Friday 8-4 basis.

It wouldn’t have been a complete visit to parliament if I didn’t take a selfie with the Peace Tower, so that is exactly what I did.

The next day, my last day in Ottawa, I had to convince myself there was no need to re-visit the hill for a third time. I had taken even possible photo and seen everything I needed to see.

Until next time Ottawa.

Kath xo

Op-Ed – Animal Testing Ends Now

For as long as I can remember, my house has been full of love and companionship. I am blessed with a supportive family who put my needs first and the unconditional love of four obnoxious, slobbery canine brothers. These four-legged friends found their way into our lives under different circumstances and left more than their muddy paw prints and fur-covered furniture.

Millions of dogs, cats, rabbits and other animals are victims of animal testing. Most spend their life alone in desolate conditions, quickly adapting to fur covered feces. These animals express emotions and recognize the emotions of humans. The one trait they lack is the ability to verbally communicate their thoughts and feelings. If we don’t speak out against animal testing, who will protect our animal brothers and sisters?

More than 100 million animals each year are subject to chemical, drug, food and cosmetic testing. The testing that does not cause immediate death of animal subjects offers the morbid alternatives of blindness, poisoning or physical harm.

Nine out of ten clinical studies researchers conducted on animals are unsuccessful. Researchers still cannot accurately predict how the animals will behave and react to studies. A failed past validates the reality that animal testing is expensive, cruel and harmful to the human race and our beloved companions.

The world is a consumer driven place. New soaps, food ingredients, medications and pesticides are created each year. These products have already been approved and animal tested by the time they are public knowledge. We must decide if green grass, waterproof eyeliner and fast-acting acne medication are worth the lives and well-being of innocent animals.

Organizations like People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) have come together to protect animals from testing and mistreatment caused by humans. Through the funding of their supporters, PETA works to uncover the truth while offering the necessary alternatives to ends animal testing.

This is our call to action. Refuse to support companies who test on animals. Use the influence of substantial buying power. Together let’s make corporations aware that we will not condone animal testing any longer.

University libraries: The land of real books.

Ignorance is simply defined as: The lack of information or knowledge.

Last week I found myself in the basement of the Mount Saint Vincent University Library, staring blankly at a shelf full of Edgar Allan Poe novels. I’m not talking about paperback novels, Circa 2006. These Poe books were aged, dusty hard covers, the real deal. 

For three consecutive days, I found myself parked in front of this same shelf. ‘The Raven’ title haunting me, begging to be loved.

To outside observers, I appeared as nothing more than a confused peer. What was happening was so much more. Anything but confused, I opened the 1927 copy of ‘The Raven,’ simultaneously the walls of ignorance came crashing down around me. 

What caused so much emotion to come over me was not Poe, or his sadistic literature.

It was that these art forms still existed, perfectly preserved for over three quarters of a century. I was exposed to these novels and many more on a weekly basis, never bothering to take the time and appreciate the history within them. 

We have become the culture of the ‘E-Book.’ Privileged enough to access millions of novels and reference titles from the comfort of our own living room. I will admit I have written numerous essay and term papers in my university career without setting foot in a library. Until last week my sole use for the MSVU library being convenient printer access. 

I am pleased to inform also, I did check out that 1927 version of ‘The Raven.’

This new found goldmine in my backyard inspired me to do something totally off the charts and kick-it old school. 

A week from now, I have a term paper due for my political science class. Our topic must relate politics and culture, the exact route entirely up to us. To no surprise of some, I chose to research and discuss the affect of Adolf Hitler and his nazi regime on german culture. 

With hopes of introducing myself to my university library I am going to conduct all necessary research and source collection right from the source. A fresh browser for my EBSCO search will not be necessary. Instead, I will spend my nose buried in books of german culture. Carefully selecting from 4+ jammed shelves of such information my university has, just waiting to be enjoyed. 

I recognize the irony that is an internet blogger preaching the importance of physical written art. It is not waisted on me. If I could take the written word and create it into an art form, much like Poe did I would gladly publish thousands of hard cover novels. 

Like many experiences lately, I have discover a sense of importance in this university function. The books it houses, the knowledgeable people it employs and the overall atmosphere it creates for those who take advantage of its services.

I leave you with the question, when did you last check out a book from your local or university library? 

Finding your Flair – What makes you stand out.

Currently, it is 1:38 a.m. on the eve of my busiest day of the week. 

While the most practical of people are long past counting sheep, I sit in my living room in a state of pure jubilance. To reference my current state to a feeling of motivation would be an understatement. Here I sit, practically two years into my Bachelor of Public Relations Degree and i’ve finally found it. I’ve uncovered my gift, my flair if you will.

As a painter connects paint and a canvas and creates art, I have married a blank document and my words to create my own work of art. For more than a year my brain has been in overdrive trying to discover what it is that i’ve been brought here to do. Sports: I hit the odd foul shot and spiked a ball or two but I just never felt fulfilled. Music: Let’s just say my short time as a trumpeter was comparable to a male elephant using its trunk as a mating call. Unfortunately, my few attempts to excel did not turn out the way a teenage girl would’ve hoped. So I spent the last few years lost in translation-waiting for the day I would be hit by the talent bus, fully prepared for anything the universe might throw my way.

During a recent visit to my hometown, my mother pulled out a shoebox filled with old report cards, projects and awards. To go along with the trip down memory lane came the nostalgic talk of my childhood and the creation of my “fireball” personality. Little did I realize, i’ve been writing with enthusiasm and persistence since kindergarden. Perhaps one of my favourite memories of young Kathleen (pre-boys era) is one my mother has reminded me of periodically over the years.

Mrs. Mac was my kindergarden teacher. With a big heart and loving demeanour she greeted us every morning with a warm smile and open arms. No surprise, I was the class clown immediately, always trying my hardest to lighten the mood. Later in the school year, Mrs. Mac announced she would be reading Cinderella out loud to us the next day. Without a second-thought I offered to bring my copy of the book to share with the class. I honestly cannot recall whether or not I actually had the book in my possession. That didn’t matter to eager to please Kathleen, I was going to write my own copy of the book for the class. My version of the Cinderella fairytale consisted of two pieces of construction paper, written so eloquently in pencil. I wish I could be a fly on the wall now and see the look on Mrs. Mac’s face the following morning when I presented Cinderalla – The revised edition. I can guarantee that five-year-old Kathleen was convinced I had everyone fooled.

Nostalgia is something I am always embracing in my life; on the plus side, I do a have hidden love for scrapbooking. Making my infatuation with nostalgia grow stronger whenever I stumble upon a half-dozen of them amongst my belonging in my fathers basement.

Realistically in the public relations program there are hundreds of students with the potential to become strong writers. Each year honing in on their skills more and more as they progress through the four-year degree. Having such fierce competition does not drive me to run but completely the opposite. Just like in volleyball, rugby or any other sport, competition motivates you and makes you harder.

There is hope for myself and other aspiring writers to stand out and have that edge that our competition lacks. The best advice I have ever received came from one of my PR professors. She advised me that by actively engaging in creative writing and journalling I am sculpting myself into a more rounded, influential writer.

“Practice makes Perfect.” A quote that couldn’t possibly be more relevant at any point in my life.

I may be a self-taught skeptic, spending almost six years in la-la land. But I firmly believe I am not the only one who has ever lost their sense of purpose. Soon to stumble and fall over what was up ahead all along.

For my friends, readers and loved ones who inhabited their skills and talents before they could walk-I’m proud of you and continue to do what you love.

As for those of you like me who can’t quite fit together the missing pieces. You are full of potential and talent you just need to open your heart and let it in.

Everyone has a mix of expertise and know-how inside of them. What separates us is the time life decides we’re ready to achieve greatness and a few curve balls we call life.

When ever you’re in need of that pick me up – remind yourself that when it hits you, you’re going to feel it like a jolt of lightening or a kick in the shin. Take it from a newly inspired hopeful, it is worth the wait.

A Fearless attitude can change everything

Kathleen xo