Here I am. Another night in Edit Suite S, a study (video editing) room on my campus. This is short, because I haven’t formed full thoughts about this yet, but in a few days I will explain why I’m okay with this room. And why I love every minute I’ve spent here in the past six months. Because it was worth it.
Not fighting words.
This is a follow up to last week’s post — a somewhat rambly defence of Bell’s use of their brand name in #BellLetsTalk.
For my news radio course this semester, each week, our class produces an hour-long talk radio show. We rotate the various jobs around so everyone gets a hands-on experience in some aspect of producing a radio show. This week, fittingly, my job was to do a three-minute editorial rant on air. The segment this rant belongs to is called “Them’s fightin’ words”.
After my blog post last week, I was still feeling a little worked about about the #BellLetsTalk “haters”, so I thought I would re-gather my thoughts on the issue, and create a more cohesive, thought-out argument. Now, I did say it on air, and I must say, I did so with minimal stutters and stumbles. But, here’s what I had to say:
Last week, Bell Canada had its 5th “Let’s Talk” Day. Just for a little background if you somehow haven’t heard of this initiative that Bell started in 2010: It’s a day where people all over the country can call, text, share, and tweet #BellLetsTalk, and for each one, Bell donates five cents toward mental health initiatives.
So my fighting words today, are actually just the opposite.
Bell Let’s Talk. Not fighting words.
Some however, are not cool with the fact that Bell uses their name in the viral hashtag. The hashtag that they started. The hashtag that they donate five cents for, which has accumulated to 67.5 million dollars toward mental health initiatives since 2010.
Alright, let’s go over this again.
Bell, who doles out like 15 million dollars to mental health initiatives and stirs up great conversation about mental health each year, decided they’d put their name on all the good they’ve started, and that’s not okay?
Bell is not only supporting mental health initiatives, they’re leading by example. When they launched this campaign in 2010, they also launched a few things internally, including looking at better mental health training for employees, and better “return to work” programs for those who had been on mental leave.
The argument that some people have against the campaign and the hashtag, is that Bell shouldn’t need to put their name on it if they really are just trying to do a good deed. But the thing is, smart marketing (which this is) and being a socially responsible corporation with good intentions are not mutually exclusive.
The four pillars of the initiative are ending the stigma, providing better mental health care and access, promoting workplace mental health, and research. Mental health has made progress in each of these areas in recent years, in large part because of Bell. Now, I get that Bell gets something out of this too.
Yes, this is an incredibly smart marketing campaign for Bell. But we simply can’t forget that it’s also done a whole lot of good for people living with mental health issues. People who didn’t want to say anything before, for fear of burdening those around them. People who always pushed it aside, because they were embarrassed or ashamed. It’s not only given a ton of money to support initiatives to help these people — it’s given these people a voice. It’s told them to talk about it, because the people in their life want to hear it. That is the message that Bell is spreading.
And as smart of a marketing campaign as it is, Bell also put themselves out there five years ago, by putting their name on something no one dared talk about. Mental health was and still is very stigmatized. It’s getting better, in part due to Bell’s initiatives, but five years ago when Bell slapped their name on a campaign that told people with mental health issues that Canada wanted them to talk about it, there were no guarantees that Canada would respond. They did, so Bell continued helping millions of people.
Call me naïve, call me too trusting, but in this case; when millions of people are getting the attention they deserve and need, even if it is at the hand of a multi-billion dollar corporation, I’d rather be that than cynical.
This is a great thing people. And it will continue to be a great thing, I’m sure, for years to come. So kudos to Bell for taking a chance, being incredibly smart, and achieving the success that they have for the millions of Canadians living with mental health issues. You deserve those four twitter characters, Bell.
#BellLetsTalk. Those are NOT fighting words.
Bell Lets Talk
Bell is a multi-billion dollar telecommunications company. We all know this.
We also all know now that Bell sponsors an annual mental health initiative, called Bell Let’s Talk Day. Why do we know this? Because, Bell Let’s Talk Day is all about talking about mental health, and how Bell has gotten us to do that is by tweeting #BellLetsTalk with Bell donating five cents per hashtag and retweet of the hashtag.
Five cents per retweet in a 24 hour period = millions donated to mental health initiatives. So what’s the problem? The problem with this for me, is nothing. Some, however, are not so cool with the fact that Bell uses their company name in the viral hashtag that they donate for. K, wait, what? Let’s repeat that. Some people aren’t cool with the fact that this company, who doles out over ten million dollars and stirs up great conversation about mental health each year, decided that they’d put their name on the hashtag that they started in order to do all this good stuff.
No. I am not cool with this negative view on what is supposed to be an amazing, and positive contribution to the wellbeing of people in our country.
Stop. Just stop.
67.5 million. That is a big number. Huge. In 5 years, that’s how much money that Bell has put toward mental health initiatives. What did people have to do for Bell to give that much money? They literally had to TYPE 13 characters. Four of these 13 characters were BELL. They were.
Does that matter? Should it matter? Does Bell having their brand name in the hashtag that translates into millions of fantastic donation dollars somehow sour this?
My answer: It shouldn’t.
Mental health is so important. Mental health initiative need money, which Bell gives them. Equally as important, however, since Bell started this initiative, mental health has been given a voice. People living with mental health barriers — no matter how debilitating — are seeing that other want to hear from them. They want to help. This is not all Bell, of course. This is the people in our world — and there’s apparently so many of them — who are really great and want to help people.
I’m super confused at how this could, in any way, be perceived as an evil marketing ploy. Naive? Sure. Maybe.
But the money, the talk. It is literally too good to argue with.
I’m not sure. I don’t know.
After a promised second post on my relationship with my hometown, I took a blogging hiatus last week, because I was just a little busy freaking right out about my first big assignment of the semester. I do that now, apparently.
Anywho, here I am, back at ‘er. I’ve made no progress. No progress on my relationship with Minnedosa that is (I handed in my assignment on time and then learned to breathe again). I came home this week, Thursday afternoon, and last night after watching a couple hours of TV with my parents, we were all headed to bed. Not so fast though, because my mom and I don’t seem to do anything too quickly. We stall things, we over-analyze, we drag out even the simple process of going to bed. So there we were, in the dark living room (because we had managed to get to the part if “bed time” where we turn off all the lights), when mom (I can’t remember if it was her or me, but I’ll blame her) brings up the F word. Future. The J word. Jobs. The W word. Work. The L word. Life You get it.
Ps, ew to growing up.
There we were discussing how I need to start applying for jobs.
WTF, already?! Yes already, this is your entire life we are talking about here Anya.
Ok, so I’m going to apply for jobs, and I guess I’m going to live in Winnipeg.
But wait, I don’t think I like living in Winnipeg.
Ok, so I’m going to apply for a job in Vancouver? Toronto? Calgary?
Well, no I don’t want to go that far away.
So I’m going to try and get a job in Brandon?
Well I’m not sure what the job market is like there. Might need to build experience in a bigger centre first.
So I’m going to live in Winnipeg?
Well I don’t know if I like living in Winnipeg.
So I want to live in Minnedosa? Is that where I want to live? End up?
I’m not sure.
Ps, these are my internal thoughts for .5 seconds of life. AHHHHHHHHH. Mother, knowing that these are my internal thoughts (or maybe I was saying them out loud), breaks in after .5 seconds.
YOU DON’T HAVE TO KNOW YET. – Mom
BUT MOM, WEREN’T YOU LISTENING TO MY INTERNAL RAMBLINGS. I DO NEED TO KNOW NOW. THIS IS CRAZY, I’M GOING TO GRADUATE IN A FEW MONTHS AND I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE I WANT TO LIVE. I DON’T KNOW WHERE I WANT TO END UP. I AM HOPELESS.
After slight deliberation (because it was midnight and the morning would be upon us all too soon), we decided that I DON’T KNOW, and that’s okay. Maybe. I’m still not sold.
Here’s the thing(s):
I want a job after graduation, and I need a job after graduation.
I don’t want to move far away, so I will likely (try to) get a job in Winnipeg.
I’m not sold on Winnipeg, and don’t think I want to live here long term. A note on this point: As far as a city goes, I think that Winnipeg is great, It’s small, and I’m comfortable with that. So, nothing against Winnipeg, I just think I might want to live rurally.
Does living rurally = living in Minnedosa? I’m not sure. Is there even a possibility of me having a great job down the road and living in Minnedosa? Also, not sure.
Might I come to love living in Winnipeg and want to live there forever? Doubtful, but maybe. My mo pointed out in our deliberation that I haven’t had a life in Winnipeg. I have just had school in Winnipeg. True. I don’t do normal people things when I’m in Winnipeg. I go to school all day, and I stay at school all night. When I have a break, or need a break, I escape to Minnedosa. I repeat, I ESCAPE TO MINNEDOSA.
Herein lies the confusion (well come of it). I use Minnedosa as my escape. My fun, carefree, often irresponsible escape. Does Minnedosa have enough for me (whatever that means) to live here full-time right now? Maybe. Maybe not.
Am I talking in circles? Yes.
Again I will say — mainly to reassure myself — it’s okay not knowing where I want to or where I’m going to end up. My mom, who if you haven’t noticed is God to me, says I’m 21 (I already knew that) and these next few years are for finding out what I want to do (I literally thought I decided that in grade 12, but apparently I didn’t narrow it down enough) and where I want to be.
Life is confusing. Big time confusing.
So, yeah, I don’t know.
A relationship like any other
I love my home. I love to come home. I hate to leave. It’s where I grew up. I always thought it would be where I end up, and I might.
The thing that I am coming to learn though, is that my relationship with my home is like any other. It’s not perfect. It’s something I’ve been pondering lately, so this will likely be a two part post, but things are getting a little more complicated as I grow up.
Like I said, I hate to leave home. I always have, and it hasn’t become any easier. My sister said something to me recently though. She said, “Your past is here.” And she’s right.
As I come closer to graduation and starting my “real life” as I’ve been calling it, I’ve been thinking more and more about where I want to end up. I like Winnipeg. I didn’t always, but I’ve come to like it quite a bit. I like who I am in Winnipeg. I’m not sure if it’s home though.
Minnedosa is home, and it always has been. I have no doubts that it always will be. But maybe not in the physical sense. Please allow me to ponder this and gather my thoughts more. I’ll be back.
My Christmas List
My Christmas List right now, simply consists of all of the things I have to do before Christmas — about half a million things to be handed in before the end of the semester, a few important meetings, and a three week communications work placement. That’s my list. And I can call it a list, because I wrote it all down!
That’s right, last weekend, I listed! I sat in my bed on Sunday and I looked at my calendar for the upcoming weeks. It hurt my brain. But I powered through, and listed. It was my first time, and I think it’s a good thing to do. It’s good to help you stay organized, of course, but what I found was that the ultimate perk of listing, was to take a step back, and put everything you have to do down on paper.
I write all my assignment deadlines on a calendar, so visually that’s great to look at. But I know myself and I know that for me each assignment will take a different amount of time. Listing allows you to allot certain tasks to certain days, and to allot certain tasks to multiple days, if it’s going to take longer for you to do.
Listing could potentially increase productivity, although I’m not sure if it did that for me, because for the past few months I’ve basically lived at school for 12-14 hours a day, so I’m mainly good in that department. My weekends could use a boost though, so I’ll see if it helps with my weekend productivity and get back to you.
Now, I must admit, it turns out I’m not a conventional “lister”. I put down certain things for certain days, yes. I fully absorbed the information I wrote down. I’m proud to say that I completed most of my tasks for the week, but I had to do a bit of shuffling. What I mean is, I didn’t do all of my alloted tasks on the day they were alloted for. But I’m okay with this.
I think that although I didn’t follow my list to a tee, I got all of my tasks done.
So, my advice: make a list. You’re not a list person? Neither am I. It helps. Don’t feel like you have to live and die by your list; that’s weird and crazy and will put way too much pressure on you if you’re a naturally anxious person like I am. But, even if not greatly, a list will help. Take me word for it, I’m an expert(no).
Now, for my actual Christmas list, which I am an expert in:
Boots (x7917)
Money ($3000)
Wine (24 bottles)
Toque (2)
Life supply of diet coke
Bobby pins
Underwear
(ANYTHING ELSE)
Bye.
Something to look forward to
I have loved halloween for as long as I remember. The candy was a plus, for sure, but I think I liked the night itself. I like to look forward to things. This can be agonizing, but it’s exciting to see something in your near future that you just know is going to be good.
There were the years my mother absolutely loaded my sister and I up with warm clothing to go trick-or-treating with mom and dad; I was the chubbiest little butterfly ever. There was the year when I wouldn’t go trick-or-treating because my cousin Brett was wearing a scary mask, so instead my dad made me hot dogs and Kraft Dinner and I stayed home. There were the years where I would go trick-or-treating with a few friends and my sister — usually all dressing up in similar costumes. There were the years when along with trick-or-treating with a group of about 20 friends, I would also look forward to the junior high dance to dress up in the lamest cute costume so I would still look “pretty” for the guy I liked at the time. Then there were the years I would look forward to the halloween social that my friends and I were going to.
Through all of these years, halloween was something I looked forward to — sometimes for weeks. I had, what I think are, a ton of great costumes. Some bought, some homemade. I’ve been a wizard, a cheerleader, a scarecrow, a flamenco dancer, a maid, the “walk of shame”. But one costume outside of these stands out. This may be because it was so recent, but it may be because no one at the social my friends and I went to knew who those creepy people in the painted suits were. And some of them are still haunted to this day.
Two years ago my friends and I decided to make Teletubbies costumes. Homemade. We bought chemical spray suits and dyed them the telletubbie colours, headbands that we affixed each teletubbie head pattern antenna thingy, pillows to make us teletubbie chubby, and silver tulle to make our teletubbie belly screens. But we couldn’t just bear our human faces all night. Oh no, we had to have plain white teletubbie faces. So this happened,
And no one has been the same since.
Happy Halloween.
She lives
Not to be totally contradictory to my post last week, but here I am, alive. To recap, I talked about the dreaded “firsts”. First day kiss, first day at a job, first time wearing makeup, etc. Many firsts are just altogether terrifying.
I said to embrace, well more like accept, the fear and the tummy-ache. But also don’t let it consume you. Because you will live. I did. Every time.
The first is the worst
Brief one this week folks, because I’m heading off to my first official game as a Winnipeg Jets communications intern. Super exciting, yup. Super nervewracking, yup.
I don’t think that doing anything for the first time is a comfortable or enjoyable experience. It’s scary. I get the excitement about trying and doing new things for sure. I am definitely excited to start my year as a Jets intern, but I’m not going to pretend that for now, the nervousness far outweighs anything else.
Think about your first kiss. Were you so excited for it to happen? Or were you like, “holy shit I’ve never done this before, I’m going to do it wrong and then I’m going to be that girl who can never kiss anyone properly and I will never find love, and I will die alone?” I was the latter, and I would find it hard to believe that anyone else felt only excited. After that, it gets easier every time, just as anything does, but time number one — yikes!
I often see people making Facebook and Twitter posts like, “First day at the new job tomorrow. So excited and ready to start this chapter.” My thoughts: LIAR.
Not that I don’t believe that people are excited about new jobs and experiences, because like I said, new does equal exciting. Eventually. At first though, new equals crippling fear, anxiety, nervousness, vomiting. Just kidding on that last one. But I think that if you’re starting something new it’s great to have a positive outlook on it, and think or hope that everything is going to be fine, but don’t feel like you have to lie to yourself about being a bit nervous, or really nervous, or so nervous you had to change your shirt three times (I didn’t do that today FYI, but it would’ve been okay if I had to).
Well, off I go! Nervous as heck, but I am sure that in a week, or two weeks, or the next game that I work, I’ll be cool as a cucumber. I am excited, for sure. I am so lucky to have gotten this opportunity to work with great communications staff for a team I love in the sport I love. I am super excited. Just not yet.
Late disease.
I have a few bad habits. Well, maybe several. Some come through daily, and some are the “few times a year” sort of habits. Mistakes in general are kind of my thing, hence the blog theme, but my biggest flaw has always been my tendency to be late. It sometimes feels like a disease that I have to fight to get rid of.
I never liked the feeling of being late. If I was really late, I would get the same feelings as anyone would — maybe to a lesser extent— of discomfort and slight panic. I think the key was that I was never reprimanded for being late. There were the few times I served the mandatory 5-15 minute detention for being late in high school, which I got out most of the time, and permanently when I turned eighteen, but other than that, nothing. I had jobs throughout high school where I worked with friends who were also consistently late, where I was the “boss, and where I worked alone. At these jobs, no one cared if I was five or 10 minutes late. Facing no consequences for this bad habit, I just never really changed it.
Then, CreComm happened. I was warned by a friend before entering the program that it was strict when it came to being late. I was warned and reminded. This was a good thing. Like I said, the only reason I continued to be late throughout high school and university was because no one ever told me not to be. In the first week of CreComm I was told not to be late about 13 times— seriously.
Simple as that, I wasn’t late anymore.
I went through most of the first year without being late. I have gone through this year without being late — until today.
The clock read 8:38 as I ran past it to my classroom. My class had started at 8.
Just an hour before that, my brain awoke to the sound of a slamming door. Before I even opened my eyes, I knew that the day was off to a rough start. My roommates usually leave the house just before 7:30, so I figured It would be about 7:15 or so when I checked my phone clock. Wrong. It was 7:45. Shit.
I actually am not sure what my point is here other than it’s good not to be late. I know that it’s good not to be late, because I know the feeling of being late very well. I didn’t know anything else for so long. The feeling of slight panic, and walking into a room that was already full of everyone who was supposed to be there was so common for me. Those feelings came back today, and I didn’t like it.
What Anya Wants to Know, a Week Ago 