And to all a good night

So today was one of those days when I get stupidly caught up and dissatisfied with my appearance. I spent my morning doing battle with my hair to no avail and realizing only halfway down the block that I had forgotten to put on even an iota of makeup.

The flourescent light over the bathroom mirror at work cruelly confirmed that the hair/face situation had been in no way improved by the brisk walk in. I was so battily insensed by my own reflection that I almost didn't notice this:



"Well that's...festive?" I thought, stopping mid-growl and letting go of my tortured locks to take a closer look at the blissful little mouse gracing a card leaning against the wall just below the mirror as though on a Christmas mantle.

Oddly enough, it was not a complete surprise to find something like this in the ladies room. There is some sneaky sweetheart who, for whatever reason, from time to time leaves what we assume are meant to be little gifts to whoever finds them. So far I've seen cute little notebooks and pencils, but I've heard tell of toonies being left on occasion as well. To be honest, I've never been sure whether or not to find the whole thing quirky and nice or creepy, especially as some of the gifts are left not on the counter but on the actual toilet tank. Like presents from a really mixed up tooth fairy.

That uncertainty didn't have a chance against my insatiable curiosity however. So I immediately opened the card to find this:



Another gorgeous creation from the beautiful minds at Papaya Art cleverly shrunk down to fridge magnet size.

And this:




Well.

Let's just say the hair didn't seem so important after that and my face was vastly improved by an ear-to-ear grin.

Thanks Santa.

Ooh child, things will get brighter

Sometime around my secondary school graduation, I recall one of my elders telling me he hoped I'd enjoyed high school, as it was probably going to be the best time of my life.

While for me, the teen years were nowhere near the hell I know they were for some, I was nonetheless alarmed by this statement.

Fortunately I have come to find that in my case (and in the cases of most everyone I know) that dire prediction has proved to be about as accurate as my theory that I'd be blissfully wedded to Leonardo DiCaprio by age 25.

The promise that things vastly improve for the majority of people after high school, and particularly for victims of bullying is the focus of the It Gets Better project, started by Dan Savage and his husband Terry in response to the recent rash of teen suicides in the U.S.

It is a beautiful and brilliant attempt to reach out and provide support to teens who are the victims of bullying and persecution because of their sexual orientation.

Despite being lucky enough to have had a supportive family and amazing kindred spirits for friends making my four years of purgatory at worst, bearable, and at best hilariously fun, there's just no way I'd want to relive the blind, fumbling, hormone-infused, insecure and angst-ridden over-capacity IKEA ball room that was high school.

Take away those friends and that family, throw in homosexuality or any one of the factors on the seemingly endless list of things that can make you a target of unabashed cruelty in high school, and things could have gone very differently.

So this Thanksgiving, my gratitude goes to those friends and that family and to every person who has contributed to the It Gets Better project.

Now if we could just get an equally viral "Quit being a closed-minded, bullying ass, seriously, there's no excuse for that garbage." project to take care of the other side going, we'd have the problem fixed in no time!