It's a lake! No, it's a tailings pond!

Since the federal government is in the process of reclassifying 16 Canadian lakes as toxic tailings dumps as a favour to mining companies, I thought I'd get in on the action.

No, I don't want to be a miner. I don't particularly want to join the uproar of the environmentalists either (though I do agree with them.)

I want to use obscure laws and facts to reclassify things to suit my own immediate needs. Hell, I don't need laws. It might involve whims instead of needs, too. I just don't want to miss out on all this fun.

Let's start with...

Stephen Harper: You've been re-classified as a robot. Come on, it's not like we all don't know it anyway. Time to come out of the closet and admit you're a droid.

Jack Layton: New official title is Court Jester.

Stephane Dion: I'd re-classify him, but I don't think anyone would care. Or notice.

The Toronto Maple Leafs: I've re-classified you as an OHL team. Odds are, you'll still end up at the bottom of the league.

The saleslady in the store who helped me today: You are officially re-classified as my personal shopper. Dress or undress as you see fit.

My dog: Canada's newest Prime Minister. She may use the great outdoors as a toilet, but she certainly has more respect for it than the Conservative minority.

Mark Steyn: New head of the Canadian Human Rights Commission.

Don't agree with some of my work? Join the club. I don't know one person who would agree that using an unlined, uncontrolled natural watercourse as a toxic sludge pond is a great idea.

But hey, it's not like the government actually has to listen to the cares of the general public. That only happens in a democracy, not in a Steveocracy.

Welcome to the 21st Century

I like to think Canada is a fairly liberated country. As a woman, I can basically do whatever I please, whenever I please.

Occasionally I am reminded, however, that the capacity of the mind is sometimes related to geography.

While living in Ontario or British Columbia, I was never really questioned about the work I did or about the non-traditional hobbies I might have. If a person thought I was odd, I was never aware of it after the initial introduction.

Only three weeks in to a long-awaited Maritime homecoming and I've found myself under the microscope.

I'm twenty eight years old. I'm unmarried and childless. I am a minority in New Brunswick. What's more, I'm looked at as an oddity by many people.

No, they aren't looking down on me. Not exactly. I'm just different. It's as if they can't understand why I would choose to do things outside their realm of normal.

Case in point? On our river trip last weekend, I'd estimate there were over 50 canoes on the river. Not one of them was controlled by a woman. Most of the women didn't even have a paddle. They floated along in the front of the boat, drinking, laughing, and enjoying themselves. It's just how things are done here.

When we stopped under a bridge during a downpour, someone dug out a guitar and passed it around. I picked it up and strummed out a few songs, drawing several curious stares. One guy actually said to me, "it's nice to see a girl play a guitar for once."

For once? What kind of isolated bubble do you live in?

A world bound with its traditional roles, held fast by fear of change and poverty.

It's home, but it's a wonder I don't belong.