I loved watching Wanda. I would just sit back Fill in the blank to suit you. Maybe my problem is that I am both of these things and it’s no big deal, but everyone else wants to be a part of it. Am I just that self-centered that I don’t appreciate who I am and where I came from?
I don’t see the glamour in either of them. Sure I’m Canadian, woo hoo, I lived in a world where my money was worth 1/2 of the american dollar and I saw poverty and alcoholism affect my friends. I saw friends with tons of potential and opportunity piss it away, as they became involved in drugs or got pregnant or both. My every day was not filled with trips to the sweatlodge and my mystical long haired grandfather did not wave smoke and surround me with spirits of the ancient ones. Sure it was nice to go to the hospital whenever I hurt myself on the playground, and trust me it was often, but as an adult you don’t necessarily require that daily upkeep all the time.
Be it Columbus in 1492, or Jacques Cartier who discovered the St. Lawrence river and inner Canada in 1534 are the white guy who started all my pain. Or did they?
What to do, what to write? I don’t know know anymore what the heck my point is. There is a story in my head that has to be told. It has so many different versions and avenues to explore. It all seems to go around in circles, everytime I take pen to paper, fingers to keys, I’m writing something new or a variation on something that’s already been written.
Bottom line…I am a registered indian who did not grow up on the reservation, who went to a french speaking school my entire life.
I just want to be famous, unforgettable, immortalized forever in history. I want to leave my mark on the world.
What nation are you? hhhmmmm….I wonder how do you answer that? I want to immediately answer, but what is my answer? Ojibway would be the correct answer, but I feel uneasy proclaiming.