Goal 1: Inter-Provincial Migration in Nova Scotia

I am fed up with Nova Scotia.  Actually, let me rephrase that statement.  I am fed up with Nova Scotia politics.  Goal one, in the ‘Now or Never’ report, is Inter-Provincial Migration; good luck with that.  Clearly our government is doing a subpar job at keeping hard working Nova Scotians in the province.

I am one who left.  I now live in Victoria, BC where I make double what I made in Halifax, and that’s just a part-time job I have while I am in school.  There is more opportunity out here for new graduates.

I honestly do not follow politics very much.  I understand the basics, as many of my fellow friends do too.  I just find it hard to stay involved and informed when the government never follows through with their promises.  Why does it matter whom I vote for since they aren’t really going to make any major changes for my benefit. 

They took away the student tax refund credit last year a great way to start reaching that goal.  I’m sure students think that is just peachy.  We have enough student loan debt and now we cannot claim a tax refund for it?  How does the government really expect to increase the population by 1,000 each year with that nonsense change?

Students are the future of Nova Scotia.  There are very few promising jobs for new graduates, in my experience, compared to most anywhere else in Canada.  The winters are getting worse and seniors are retiring later than ever before.  There is no incentive for us to stay in the Nova Scotia.

I know at least 40 people who have moved to either Toronto, Vancouver and pretty much everywhere in Alberta because there are better financial possibilities.  In fact, a man I once worked with as a landscaper works 30 days on and one week off in an Alberta oil field.  His wife and two young children live in Truro.  He doesn’t work in Alberta because he wants to.  He does it because he has a massive student loan that he knows he will not be able to pay off, and raise a family at the same time, if he works in Nova Scotia; it’s a shame, really.

I love Nova Scotia.  I grew up in Nova Scotia.  My family is from Nova Scotia.  There is nothing I would rather do than build a professional career, that I am proud of, and raise a family in my hometown of Halifax.  I would move back if there was opportunity for me.  So many people I know in Nova Scotia, with university degrees, work as restaurant servers because they make more money in tips than they would in their profession.

I agree with the ‘Now or Never’ report, drastic changes need to be made on many levels and by every individual as a whole.  Nova Scotia’s economy is declining.  The first start to increasing inter-provincial migration is to genuinely show to students that the government is on their side and willing to help them out which seems like a long shot.  That’s just my opinion, take it or leave it.

Kent Mason

Kent grew up in Bloomfield, Newfoundland.  It is a very small town about a 20-minute drive from Clarenville, with a population of 250 people.  Growing up by the sea, in a small place, has kept Kent very humble.  He refuses to have people call him Mr. Mason as it makes him feel old, like his father. 

Kent is a shorter man, standing 5 feet 6 inches tall.  He has thinning greyish brown hair on the top of his head.  His thinning hair is a very sensitive subject for him; he refuses to believe he has a receding hairline.  He is also relatively fit, as he does a lot of outdoor activities, such as hunting, building cabins and fixing cars.  With that being said, he has a bit of a belly because him and his buddies love a few tins of beer at the end of a long day.  His eyes are his best feature.  They are bight blue, unlike his three other siblings brown eyes.   His eyes are very kind and slightly tilt downwards.  His kind eyes, humble nature and fit physique make many of the local women swoon over him.  They don’t phase Kent as he is a loyal husband to a wonderful bay woman; his high school sweetheart named Mary.

Friends of Kent would describe him as extremely loyal, almost to a fault.  He has worked the same job, at the paper mill a town over, since he graduated high school 24 years ago. He never complains and never asks for anything in return for favors.   He definitely appreciates the small things in life and he would much rather go on a skidoo or quad trip up Island, as opposed to an extravagant trip on a cruise or down south.  He has a dry sense of humor but it is relatively easy to pick up on once you hang around with him enough.  He loves to play pranks on fellow employees and has won many awards at the paper mill for outstanding employee performance.  He always shows up fifteen minutes early for work so he can enjoy his coffee and read the newspaper.  He likes his time alone as he is introverted.  Many people think he is shy at first, but that is not the case.  Kent is a quiet man, who only speaks when necessary; yet another reason his friends find him loyal and rely on him for advice.  He comes across as very wise for his age.

Kent recently turned 41 on January 5^th.  He celebrated by taking a quad trip with a few of his buddies up to the cabin.  He loves cabin parties.  His wonderful wife, had a rectangular pound cake waiting for him.  He is an icing lover and therefore always insists he get a corner piece. He always makes a big wish before he blows out the candles, but refuses to tell anyone to make sure it will come true.

The free weights section of the gym

I have been quite diligent lately at trying to stay active each day.  I have been doing a routine of pushups, crunches, squats and planks as my morning ritual, for about a month now, to not only get fit but to reduce stress from work and school.

I decided to go to the GoodLife gym for one of my workouts.  I do not have a gym membership, as I don’t like working out in front of people, especially men.  I’m no Skinny Minny, in fact I am more so a Large Marg.  I like to think my clothes shrunk in the dryer but who am I kidding.  At least I know I am big boned.

I purchased a day pass and decided to face my fear of not only going to a co-ed gym but to do my workout in the upstairs free weights section.  This section is the most intimidating of all the sections at the gym.  This is where the big, buff men and women go to lift things up and put them down.  Most of the machines I have no clue how to work, which is a big part of why I am so intimidated.  But my main mission was to whip out my yoga mat in the corner and workout through my high stress levels in that location.

I distinctly remember being anxious immediately as I walked though the gym doors.   In the change room there were women with six packs, putting on makeup to workout.  I still wonder why someone would get all dolled up to just sweat it all off. Then again I guess a gym is probably a great place to meet men, especially extremely fit ones.

Upon leaving the changing room and walking up the stairs, where the free weights section is located, I could feel my heart beating through my chest.  An onlooker could probably notice my shirt palpitate if they were looking hard enough.  My face was completely red; I knew that because my cheeks were on fire.  I got a few looks from a couple guys spotting each other on a chest press, but they quickly looked away and continued lifting what looked to be about a million pounds of metal plates. 

I set up my mat and made sure to turn my IPod up very loud, to block out the noises of the gym.  Surprisingly, once I started doing my workout my fear of the room decreased.  I was under the impression that I would be told to leave because I am not fit enough to be in that room.  Contrary to my belief, that was not the case, no one said anything to me.   In fact, it was nice having a little eye candy to look at as I did my post workout stretches. 

It was an interesting experience working out in a co-ed gym with other people around to see my wobbly bits wobble as I persevered through my exercises.  I don’t think I will go to the free weights section again, as I would rather workout in the comfort of my own home.  But it’s nice to know that my fear of feeling uncomfortable is in my head and not necessarily in the free weights room or in the heads of people in the room, especially the eye candy.

The Shock Value Legend

When I was around five years old, living on Ross Street in Halifax, my parents would constantly trick me.  Most times I would pick up on the trick after, but I remember this one specific trick they did repeatedly that I always believed to be true.  It wasn’t until I was in university that I remembered them doing this and clearly realized it was all a lie. 

My mother, or father, depending on who was feeling like a jokester that day, would both play this trick on my sister and I.  They would start by looking into my ear, in the kitchen.  They always did this trick in the kitchen, which makes sense in hindsight.  This is how it always went down. 

Mom: “Michelle, I think I see something in your ear?!”

Me: “What do you mean?!  What is in my ear?!” 

I would start to panic.

Mom: “I don’t quite know what it is.  Why don’t you close your eyes and I will try to get it out”

I would close my eyes, like she said.

She would act like it was a struggle.  Covering one hand on my ear and really sounding like she was pulling hard to get this ‘thing’ in my ear out.  I was so confused as to why I couldn’t feel anything in my ear.

Then all of a sudden she would get me to open my eyes.  To my amazement, in her hand would be a full egg.  I couldn’t get over the fact that an egg was inside of my ear.  I was very confused as to how it could have gotten deep into my ear.  So for the longest time I thought eggs came from human ears and not from birds.  A smart child I was. 

Whenever I requested that mom or dad pull an egg out of my ear they would refuse to do so.  It was always on their terms.  I thought they were magical wizards.  Clearly, it was because they had no eggs left in the fridge.

To this day my mother and father play this trick, or legend, on my nieces, their grandchildren.  It is so nostalgic to watch my nieces become mesmerized at the sight of an egg coming out of their ear.  It reminds me of the feelings of shock and awe I had when I believed it to be true.

Mom and I Rocking

What is my earliest memory?

I think I was really young. Which is weird. I don’t think I remember many years after this moment.  It's really early memory.  It was when I was probably still in a crib.  I was maybe two years old. I remember waking up, or more so just existing in the moment.  I don’t remember before or after it.  Just in that moment. Of me being in my mothers arms.  And she’s rocking me in the rocking chair singing Amazing Grace. The rocking chair was in my room.  In the house I lived in on Ross Street. 

It was sometime in the evening because I remember the hall light was on and my room light was not.  So the lighting was dim. She reminded me of an, almost heavenly figure. Her voice was soft, as though she thought I was sleeping and did not want to wake me. It’s very odd because I don’t remember really much after that. I actually don’t remember living in that house that much, come to think of it.  I have a few memories.  But those were when I was maybe four years old.  We moved when I was five.

That first memory of mom and I rocking, it was very calming.  I think my mom was in a nightgown and I remember looking up at her.   I can still envision the angle I was at.  I saw my mothers face.  That was the moment I really recognized my mother for the first time. In that moment I felt so safe.  I was so young. I remember the strong impression it made on me.