i never learned to swim

2011-06-08T23:07:00.003-04:00

Otesha Testimonial

In my everyday life I consider myself to be a perfectly ordinary person. I listen to the CBC. I do laundry when I run out of underwear. I like a drink after a long day at work. I love the feeling of crossing an item off my To Do list. Like any ordinary person, I wonder about who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with, I count invisible money, dream about the places in the world I’m going to see, and I lie awake at nights thinking, "What I am going to DO with my life?"

Like many, I knew that I wanted to help people... right? That’s what good people do... right? I knew my heart twitched with a pang of guilt every time I saw a World Vision commercial, so that must mean that I’m meant to go out there and change the world by doing something great... right? What kept me up at nights wasn’t necessarily the plethora of problems plaguing the world, it was that ever-so-slight-yet-very-important difference between the fact that I CAN make a difference in this world and that I DO make a difference. So, what I was going to DO about all that out there... how does one go about choosing a problem to help with?

Going on an Otesha bike tour was of the biggest ACTS of my life – I was finally going to DO something with all of my undirected energy. I discovered Otesha last March and it was completely by chance. I was at work one day and needed to ask an old colleague a favour: “Hey, think you can help me out when I’m super busy in June?” And she said no, she was busy in June doing this farming bike tour thing. Here’s a link if I was curious. And I was, so I clicked on the link. And another link. And oh my, by the powers that be vested in the Internets, I found The Otesha Project.

Poking through the website for the first time was like opening one of those matryoshka dolls, you know, the Russian nesting dolls that are placed one inside another. “Ooh, there’s more. What, there’s more? No way, there’s more!” I could hardly believe it – this organization was this delightful combination of different things I loved in life that I never thought could be combined: theatre, bicycles, environmental education, working with youth, seeing the country, living simply and sustainably and more! So I couldn’t help but just take a breath and jump right in. I applied and I interviewed; I was accepted and I was pleased as punch.

My parents on the other hand... I announced over brunch one weekend that I was taking a few months off work to go on a cycling and performance bike tour and my news was met with silence and then, “You’re doing WHAT?!”

Parental resistance aside, I had to get busy. I had to get a bike, and panniers and a rack to hang the panniers on to. And gear and a lot of stuff I didn’t have because I had never done anything like this before. I had to fundraise and train and yikes - fit 2 months of my life into two bike bags. I was both terrified and totally pumped.
One evening in June I met Otesha’s Ferocious Farm Tour team as they came through Toronto. I went to see the play I’d soon be performing myself, I went to check out their bikes and gear, and have a vegan dinner with them. And all of the sudden I realized the answer to the question I had been secretly asking myself for months, "What have I gotten myself into?!" And the answer was: something simply amazing.

During the first week of September I witnessed 16 complete strangers become my new family. We were a mostly fully-functional one at that. It was our training week and we had to figure out how we were going to live with each other for the next two months. All of the sudden I was using hand signals at nightly meetings trying to reach consensus. I was talking about my feelings at least once a day every day. I ate my meals out of one reusable container with my one spoon. My bed was my sleeping bag and mat on any empty floor space I could find, nestled snugly amongst my team of 16. I was rehearsing a play with no costumes and no props, and I knew more about importing bananas than I ever thought I would. The one thing I could never get used to though, was eating burnt oatmeal in the mornings.

As a team we came face to face with heavy rain, strong winds, potholes, some serious hills and tragedy. Today marks the 8-monthaversary of our first official day on tour and that means tomorrow is the 16th, the day 8 months ago that we lost Andrew. We came face to face with the fact that life is precious and short.

But you know what else we came face to face with? Audiences! Hundreds upon hundreds of audience members! And while it was sometimes intimidating, it was totally empowering to realize that these students really got the messages from our play and workshops. They’d ask these Level 3 questions that made me pause and really consider my words before I spoke them. How do I explain how clothes are made in a developing country? How do I tell a student from a farming community to be thoughtful in their produce and meat choices. How do I make a fair trading system tangible to someone who’s never heard that term before? They questioned my answers and I liked it. It was powerful. As I went, I could feel the world changing... or was it that the world was changing me? I’ve never been so active, or eaten better. I’ve never slept so deeply or laughed so hard I nearly peed my bike shorts. I’ve never been surrounded by so many learning experiences, so many beautiful people – and I’ve never felt so healthy. Being a part of Otesha was like getting to know myself better and my place in the world. It’s about challenging yourself to really walk the talk. Not only was I setting an example for others, I was setting an example for myself. As an individual I came face to face with my potential, with the impact my daily choices had what it really meant to ask questions and question those answers. And to do it with a smile. With activism should come joy.

Suddenly my life wasn't so ordinary anymore - I was a part of a cycling theatre troupe! We felt like heroes cycling off after performances at schools. What a wacky thing I thought I’d never do. It’s not even that I thought I’d never do it – it’s just that I never thought of it, never thought that such a thing existed.

So what has Life After Otesha been like? Coming home was a big change and I'll admit that the transition wasn't easy, but it was character building. I now carry around a set of small utensils with me, lest I lured by disposable cutlery. My housemates and I let it mellow and I still try as much as possible to read labels and shop ethically. Actually – I don’t shop for much anymore. After coming back from tour, I took on a personal commitment to not buy anything new for at least one year. I came face to face with my consumption and I didn’t like what I saw. What I saw was a chance to challenge it and change it. I’ve realized that doing something differently is not doing something difficultly. Everyday is an effort to make these little changes to my life, and I am excited to normalize these actions so that they are simple and no longer require noticeable amounts of effort. Important, yet so natural that it’s like breathing. I want cycling, staggered showers, eating organic and additive-free to be very, very ordinary. And there is something to be said for things that are, indeed, extra-ordinary. They are extraordinary.

So on my To Do list: Make my own toothpaste. Make peanut butter. Stay conscious in life. Consume less. Change the world. But first, I have to let the world, and all that it has to offer, change me.

I had to think for a long time – how do I share a story of how Otesha can change the lives of real people? Well, here I am and I have proof. The evidence is in my leg muscles, in my ability to change a flat tire, and most importantly it’s in my realization that I CAN and WILL make a difference. I am, slowly and deliberately, becoming the change I wish to see in this world. It’s not huge, not big yet... but I’m getting there a little bit at a time.

I told people that coming to this event would be like An Introduction to the Organization that Changed My Life. But the more I thought about it, I realized that’s a lie. Because The Otesha Project hasn't changED my life... it's changING my life. It's still happening, in the present tense. And it will likely continue for some time.

So what is a testimony? Something given or done as an expression of esteem, admiration, or gratitude – and when I consider all the different ways in which I can describe what Otesha has done for me, all I can say is: Dear Otesha Project, thank you. For providing me with an opportunity to undertake one of the greatest endeavours and adventures of my lifetime. For bringing me into a new family. For HOPE. For making a perfectly ordinary life, feel pretty extraordinary. Love, Shirley.

Cheers.

2011-04-21T23:07:00.004-04:00

Unspent Love

Suddenly, I have so many questions.

What was the inside of your house like, growing up? And what were the Territories like? What did you like the best about Europe? What food comforts you? Do you have a favourite colour? What is your favourite memory of doing something alone, all by yourself?

But I could never comfortably ask you about your new job. Because then it would be Real.

I felt like I was trying so desperately to get you know you just as you are leaving. Why didn't I ask you these things before? Did I want you to remain mysterious? Was I afraid of knowing you too well...?

I never knew you liked your oatmeal with milk. But you like your eggs over-easy. And your coffee black. And I'll likely always remember these things. Maybe that's what I was afraid of all this time - never forgetting.

***

I think about all the things we talked about doing, but never did. Like going to Beats, Breaks & Culture fest at the Harbourfront. Like dancing wildly in the streets to Samba Elegua at a Pedestrian Sunday in Kensington. Like going to Manitoulin Island. I mean, we did have three years... why did I wait that long to cook you a nice meal and make a hot breakfast?

But then I think of all the things we did do; all of the music, concerts, dancing, driving, ethnic food eating, yoga, walking, writing, hair trimming, hair waxing, hand holding, and just holding...

No matter how hot, sticky, sweaty and entangled in the sheets we were, I always woke to you holding me (even if it was dictated by the space (or lack thereof) in a single bed...).

I think about all these things and realize that I loved you in a million different ways. And it's hard for me to bear the thought of not waking in your arms. And when I realize exaclty how hard it is for me to translate this lump in my throat and these tears that roll down my cheeks, I know that I will love you in a million more.

***

I was so afraid at first, so afraid to tell you that I loved you.

And knowing that you were leaving made me more afraid to tell you, lest it sound like a desperate attempt to keep you. The news of your going ate at me from the inside out - like the time you told me you were moving out of your house on Gordon Street. I've never dealt well with Loss and Leaving and having you go is like something between and break-up and a death. Slow, and deliberate.

I've been mourning your leaving since the weekend I helped move you out of your apartment. I cried for days after that. And yet, we tried to celebrate - our 'last' two nights in Stratford. Trying to drink each other up while we could, so desperately. It makes me think of the duality of the half-empty fridge people keep right before they travel. Such a strange, conservative half-life we lead as we try to make meals out of whatever food it is we have left. But that isn't quite right, is it - it isn't conservation that we practice at the end of things - it is expenditure, using up the last of what remains. Maximizing use before expiry - and I don't want us to expire.

Ex..pire.

Respire.

Breathe.

***

I am clinging onto whatever pieces I have left of you, knowing that I have to let the rest go. Let it go.

What is the force that takes you away? There, to Her - the woman, the land. Where I haven't been made a place to belong. Is it true, what they say, that sometimes Love just isn't enough? Because I love you, right - and you love me, right? So I wonder to myself, What is it that keeps us apart in this life?

And that inevitably leads me back to wondering about the force that brought us together in the first place.

What was that?
And what held it there, between us?

***

With boundless love, through time and over oceans,
Always,
-me.

2011-02-25T22:52:00.001-05:00

Up In The Air

It's 7:26pm and I'm late. It's all I can think. I should have left a half hour earlier, I shouldn't have had dinner with Amber, I should have checked in when I had that free time, I shouldn't have over-estimated myself. So now I'm texting while driving to the airport, trying to get my boss to check me into my flight because I don't know how to use the internet on my Blackberry*. True story.

I'm not panicing, but I'm vexed. I'm not panicing because I know that if I do end up missing the flight, I'll get another one. And if I have to stay the night I have a loving friend who can take me in and heck - I'd drive back there right now if I could instead of flying home only to work more anyhow. I'm vexed because I had a long two days and I was mildly rejected by a boy I thought I liked. I admitted to myself that what I really wanted to do was call the boy, because I didn't get to see him before I left and maybe he'd wine me and dine me and WINE ME again and then he'd comfort me and cuddle me and make me feel better after a long day.

But then I thought, NO. That's NOT what I want to do. And it's not what I NEED to do. And no, it's not because I'm bitter that he mildly rejected me, it's because at the end of a long, tiring day, I shouldn't need a boy to make me feel better. I should know how to make myself feel better and handle my own stresses and vexed-ness and NOT rely on a man because man is not woman's best friend. Wine is.

It was a really self affirming thought and I'm glad I had it because it calmed me down even though I was still late for my flight.

After BBM'ing with my boss (still while driving) I accepted the fact that I was going to miss it. Check-in closes a half hour beforehand and it was now 7:34pm; I was still many minutes away from the airport and I had to return the rental car. Ah well. Shit happens. The universe will decide what's meant to happen and it looks like I was meant to miss my flight.

I manage to enjoy the rest of my drive, I take my time organizing my bags and with a tired chuckle, tell the men at the rental car place about my bad day. I drag my feet, my bags, and my ass to the check-in counter.

Without thinking about it, I head for the self check-in machine not remembering that I should be telling the people at the counter that I need a new flight. And then I realized that I'm actually checking-in, that this machine is allowing me to check-in for a flight that should have already boarded and should be taking off in 5 minutes. My eyes scan the screen - Flight DELAYED.

I can hardly contain my giggles and my story telling and suddenly I'm telling everyone around me that I thought I missed my flight I already had a bad day ohmygoodness it's actually delayed here I am checking in I've even got 20 minutes to spare before boarding isn't the universe just GREAT?

Knowing that the Universe takes care of me was also a really life affirming thought. I chuckled all the way to my gate.

*Not MY Blackberry but my WORK Blackberry. I would never own a Blackberry.

2011-02-02T12:04:00.006-05:00

(Lack of) Laundromat Love

I'm pretty sure it was in that movie, 40 Days and 40 Nights. There's a scene where Boy walks by a laundromat and sees a Girl doing her laundry whilst rocking out to her music. She's stunningly beautiful, of course, but she's probably also pretty down to earth if she's doing her washing at a place called Monkee Laundry while dancing along to tunes coming out of a Discman. Boy goes in to meet Girl and the love story continues from there*, but I was already hooked on the idea: I wanted to meet a boy at the Laundromat.

Fast forward 8 years. I'm still single and I've just moved into a new place (just a couple of months ago) and though it was small, had no storage (for three girls, that is not a good thing), had no laundry**, and the bathroom was in the kitchen***, I fell in love with it. It had character and we had a rooftop patio (2 of them!) after all. Sure, it's winter, but give us 4 months and we'll have the coolest place EVER. I admit that I first balked at the idea of not being able to do my laundry in-house, but it seemed too late - I was already half-way through signing the lease. I gave a resigned sigh and said we'd figure it out later.

Now fast forward 2 months and I'm starting to run out of socks and underwear. I don't know how I manage, but I've gone two months without doing laundry before. I have a lot of clothes and I wear mostly everything at least twice before washing. It's Sunday and I have a few spare hours in between committments, so I make a vow: Today, I am going to do my laundry. I raise my fists in the air to get myself excited. YEAH! I sort and throw all my colours into bags (whites are for next time). I grab my iPod and a stack of work to take with me. Almost forgot the detergent. When I finally get out of the house I almost get stuck in the doorframe. I look like a pack mule plodding down the street and around the corner.

Inside the laundromat, I make an adventure out of choosing the right washers, getting quarters from the change machine and putting my clothes in loosely enough so that they're washed effectively. I’ve got 3 machines going at once and I'm contentedly sitting on a chair doing some work. In the middle of my reverie, I notice a dude come in with a bunch of stuff and eye my machines. He walks around, comes back, and stands against the wall. I think to myself, No way – he’s seriously going to wait for my machines when there’s plenty of others in this place? Weirdo. I wonder if I messed up his Sunday routine, if maybe I'm the New Girl who didn't know that these washers were HIS. When one of my loads finishes I get up to empty it and ask him, “Are you waiting for these?”

And that was all it took to strike up a conversation! Before I knew it, we were having a full-out strangers-who-just-met get-to-know-you-chat. We talk about laundry and how long we wait to do it, how Sunday is a good day for that kind of stuff (chores), we talk about work (he’s an ENGINEER! automotive – designing electric wheelchairs), school, living in the Junction, we talk about lots of random little things. I tell him he dropped a sock and he asks me if I know about wool. He shows me how to use the dryer and I tell him he dropped a sock, again.

His name is Will, and Will and I chat for an hour. He’s super friendly and nice he tells me that it's really nice to meet me and man – laundry was suddenly very, very exciting. Is this it? I wondered, Is this the thing I've always wanted? He's cute to boot. He says to me, “Have you noticed that there’s a lot of brunch places around here?” Well, of course I have – are you going to ask me to brunch?! I wonder… He doesn’t, but later he does say, “We should grab a beer sometime.” This IS it! This is the thing I've always wanted!! I get all giddy and give him my number. I'm super excited and almost tell him the whole weirdo dream I have of meeting a Boy at the laundromat, but I catch myself: Don't get too crazy just yet, okay? I have the world's biggest grin on my face as I leave. I daydream as I walk home clutching my dry clothes and all the rest of the night about what it would be like to actually go on a date with him and how we'd get along and how I wouldn't be wearing my laundry-day clothes - even though I LOVE a good funky t-shirt and jeans.

The next day at work I wonder how long he'll wait before calling me. Or if he'll call me at all - texting is the thing these days. Sometime in the afternoon I check my phone and see that I received a message from him late in the morning. It was a long text from him explaining that his intentions were just to be friendly, that he has a GF and that he thought I might have noticed from the panties in his laundry, though he joked that they could have been his, haha. (I did notice, and saw the noticeably small sweater as well, but thought they might be a roommates…? Is there ANY ROOM for wishful thinking in this world anymore?) He admits that by the end of our conversation he was too embarassed to say anything. He apologizes for leading me on, but that it was really nice talking to me.

I sigh and close my phone. Well, there goes that.

No hard feelings, I write back. The world needs more friendly people like you! I say. Thanks for making laundry time a little more enjoyable. I thank him for letting me know (he could have been a jerk and never called/texted and just left me to wonder) and tell him that my roomies and I love new neighbourhood friends so if he ever wants that beer... I mean everything I say, but... well, you know - this sucks.

I suppose I still did technically meet a boy at the laundromat. I just failed at meeting a potential boyFRIEND. Ah well. He’s still super nice and sweet, so I hope that maybe we still CAN go for a beer – I would love to have a friend in the neighbourhood and we can tell the fun story of how we met. Maybe he'll swoon over me later...

*Initial infatuation starts as a result of words actually, another idea which I also fell in love with. He looks over her shoulder while she's reading a magazine and notices that she's underlined a few words. She marks them because she doesn't know what they mean, and this way she can remember to look them up later. Paris Boy did something similar and I was over the moon about it....

**I actually found out about the laundry (or lack thereof) while I was in the middle of filling out my lease****. I was signing my name somewhere and nonchalantly asked, "So where's the laundry machines, by the way?" To which the landlord responded, quite matter of factly, "There aren't any." It sounded like he was ready to say a big DUH at the end of his sentence. I looked at my two roommates. "You two didn't think to ask about LAUNDRY?!"

***True story.

****OMG I signed a 1-year lease. I've more or less committed to living in one place for at least a year. AAAHHHHHHH!

2011-01-08T16:26:00.000-05:00

Having Left The Drake Passage...

I first heard about Students on Ice ten years ago when I was in high school. While volunteering at the local bingo hall one night, a friend asked if I would ever consider going to Antarctica. The first thing out of my mouth (other than a huge, curious grin) was, "Yes!" I had never thought of it before, but it pulled at something in me. To make a long story short, we never made it on that trip, but SOI's maiden voyage in 2000 stayed on my mind for the last decade. Two weeks ago, when I arrived at the airport and started to meet everyone as the expedition got underway, I worried that I wouldn't be able to express to anyone how truly meaningful it was for me to have finally made it here.

Our word of the day two days ago was "ineffable" - describing how something is inexpressible. How appropriate, I thought. I've been wondering about how I'm going to describe everything to people when I get home. I have been thinking and talking about Antarctica for ten years how, I have to show some photos and tell some stories, don't I? But ...how?

This is the Last Continent, the last bit of the earth to be discovered by explorers and for a long time, the continent of Antarctica didn't appear on any world maps. When it finally did, it was a vague scribble at the bottom of the page, labelled "Incognita" - Unknown.

I read this quote shortly before I left for the expedition; it struck a chord with me and will undoubtedly stay with me for some time. And for now, it is the only way that I can express how truly meaningful, and ineffable, this experience was for me: "It is not down on any map, true places never are."

2011-01-04T16:24:00.000-05:00

Heading Towards Hidden Bay

It occurred to me last night as I was lying in bed that yesterday would have been my first day back at work after the holiday break. But instead of being at the office, I found myself spending the day at Deception Island, doing a plankton tow, hiking up to Neptune's Window, walking amongst old whaling stations and then doing a "penguin dip" - a jump into the chilly waters of Whaler's Bay and then a luxurious dip in a homemade hot tub with thermal waters. And during the time when I would have been taking transit home, I was hiking up and down a volcano.

It takes me a while to process all of the incredible things that we do in one day and I want to be able to translate all of these awe-inspiring experiences into ...something. But you know how they say "A photo is worth a thousand words"? Well, neither my photos nor my words could do this place justice. Because I'm here now and I'm completely and utterly speechless.

2011-01-01T16:22:00.000-05:00

These Boots Are Made for Walking...

I'm tempted to put on my comfy "ship shoes" when I get dressed in the mornings before breakfast, but I decidedly put on socks and my good boots because I just never know when I'll want to go outside. Well, that's not true - I want to go outside all the time. Whether it's to get some fresh air to ease my queasy head and stomach or to see if I can spot another albatross, I always appreciate our view: endless rolling waves and just this wide, vast, seemingly unending royal blue ocean.

We've crossed the Antarctic Convergence (whoo!) and the 60 degrees south latitude (wahoo!) and the ship is chugging along nicely in the direction of Elephant Island. I'm thrilled at the idea of being in the spot where Shackleton's famous journey began. If all goes well, we should be arriving around 8pm this evening and in addition to being excited about bringing our science lectures to life, I'm also looking forward to being on solid, steady ground again. Like some others on the ship, I'm battling seasickness au naturel - just with shear mind-power and no medications - and have been successful at keeping my moderately lurching stomach at bay so far. Admittedly, I'm feeling a bit wibbly today and can't wait to plant my feet on land and not have to concentrate on keeping my balance. (I should mention, however, that we have been reminded time and time again that we are very lucky to have the calm waters of "Drake Lake" thus far and not those of the infamous "Drake Shake"!)

And while I sometimes feel so wiped out at the end of our fully packed days that I just want to go to bed after room checks, I'm glad that I push myself to stay up and chat with the other staff members and get to know my new friends better. Last night found us all celebrating the New Year together in the lounge. We had a fantastic party with the students (complete with songs, dances, Father Time, Baby New Year and all)! I tumbled into bed a little later than I had planned, but I fell asleep with a smile on my face knowing that I'd wake up in the morning and put my socks and boots on, ready to do it all over again.

2010-12-27T22:14:00.002-05:00

Ten Years Later: I'm Antarctica Bound (Kind of)

Remember this post? I think about it all the time. And that's because I think about going to Antarctica all the time. I didn't tell you this, but (surprise!) I'm headed there right now.

Well, kind of. We're stuck, before we even started our journey, because our flight out of the city and country got cancelled. Thanks A LOT, snowstorm in New York! So the Canadian contingent is spending the night in a hotel by the Toronto airport whereas the rest of the international team are somwhere in the world, in the sky, making their way south as best they can, given whatever the weather is. Our flights have luckily been rebooked for tomorrow.

And whereas the rest of the team is in good spirits, I have to admit that I'm fronting my positive exterior because heck! I'm annoyed. I want to be on a plane bound for Chile, then Argentina, then the southern-most city in the world, and NOT in an airport hotel 25 minutes from my apartment. I wanted to fly with a new airline (LAN!) and NOT Air Canada. I wanted two nights in Ushuaia (come on, it's the southern-most city in the world!) and see the city and go hiking and not spend ONE night there or NONE at all!

I know, I know - breathe in, breathe out and calm the heck down. I don't know what's gotten into me - I mean, flights mess up all the time, I travel on a whim all the time and shit happens. But when something has been organized and I've been looking forward to it for, oh, TEN YEARS, I suppose I'm easily irritable.

Anyway - at some point in the next few days, I will be going to Antarctica. Ushuaia was just a bonus city. I'll go there another time. I think I might be taking this "once" in a lifetime business too seriously. If I miss out on something, I'll just have to make sure that I do it again later.

2010-12-19T20:29:00.002-05:00

Home For A Change

It's been a little over a month since I came back home after my cycling adventures out east. Transitioning put me through more stress than I imagined, but I'm finally getting more comfortable with my old skin... Sort of.

You know how people (and my old self) say that when you go away on a trip and you come back home it feels like you got back into your old routines like you didn't miss a step, without missing a beat? And they say it's like you never left? I used to say that stuff all the time. I used to praise myself on being so adaptable that I could go from Holidaying for weeks and months to Home and within days I was back to where I used to be - like I'd never left at all.

I haven't said that this time. Because I don't want it to be true. I want it to feel like I DID go somewhere and now that I'm back I want it to feel like I DID leave and things changed. Things changed here at home and *I* changed while I was away. What else can explain my stumbling over those missed steps and the funny, unique sound of my own music - the sound of all those irregular, missed beats.

What I'm struggling with is reconciling the ideals of this new life I just lived with the life I came from before my bike trip - and though what I lived on the trip was an extreme, it was also Real. And Doable. It's just harder when I'm without my 16-member family, this tight-knit support network that championed me through all my causes and challenges and I'm back in the city, a part of commuter culture and a society suffering from compulsive consumption. Because not everyone at work is cool with letting it mellow in the shared washroom, because going a week without a shower or washing my hair is noticable, because my gentle, friendly reminders can be seen as annoying and irritating to a group of people who aren't USED TO IT. As much as everyday is a reminder to be patient, I can't help but wonder WHY people don't use the other side of the paper before tossing it out (into the recycling or otherwise), or WHY people don't compost their organics. Because it's not that hard - sure, it may not be EASY, but I think it's important to reconceptualize "easy".

Anyway - that's what I'm dealing with right now. Trying to challenge myself to make changes in my everyday life without irritating everyone around me, or myself. So I'm challenging my consumption by going as long as I can to go without buying something new, not using disposable things and encouraging others to do the same. The change won't be easy, but it will be necessary.

2010-11-27T21:05:00.002-05:00

The Beginning of The End

November 15

I had a very sudden, clear, and important realization tonight as I walked away from work. I had just finished my first day back. I'd also stayed late and was now walking to the bank so I could get money to buy a transit pass so I could get home. I was exhausted. As I looked at the street scene before me - bright lights of store windows, traffic, holiday decor, pedestrians - I couldn't tell if this was better than being in the office. After all, I'd been itching; my body was confused as to why it was indoors all day long. So now I was outdoors. Was this what I wanted?

And that's when it hit me: it wasn't Outdoors vs. Indoors at all. What I needed was to be with my 16-member family again. We could have been in my office, could have been standing on a street corner - it made little to no difference where we were. The difference would simply be that we were together again. That's what I wanted.

2010-10-10T16:33:00.000-04:00

On The Road Again

It's an understatement to say that our team was looking forward to getting back on our bikes, hitting the trails of Prince Edward Island and getting our groove back as an Otesha group. A week ago we left our cottage in Clinton, a home and haven to us, on a rainy Saturday morning and cycled to Barnyard Organics, home to island farmers Mark and Sally. It seemed appropriate that we were starting our tour again with a learning opportunity - one that put us in touch with the local community and with our food mandate, which we had spent hours discussing just the day before departure. We learned about various types of grains and soybeans, what it takes to achieve organic certification, toured the grounds, and helped out in the barn shovelling a giant pile of woodchips into bags for winter storage - 15 pairs of hands makes for speedy work! We didn't leave before we tasted some of Mark's roasted soybeans and supported the farm by purchasing two local, organic chickens which made for a delicious dinner the night after.

In the days that followed we found ourselves cycling all over the western end of the island, from Summerside to Alberton to O'Leary and back - we moved from Lion's Clubs to Arts & Heritage Centres and performed to hundreds of students in school gyms. As a team we endured the rain, enjoyed the sunshine, and rode our bikes together on the roads and trails alike. We kept each other on track in the mornings, pumped each other up before performances, and finally got the chance to do full kitchen crew rotations.

I was travelling with Kelsey and Guy one day and we had some shopping to do for dinner after a performance in St. Louis, just outside of Alberton. Guy had caught wind of Soy Hardy, a place where we could purchase organic tofu and we were tickled with delight at the thought of having such a delicious addition to our dinner that night. We pulled up, knocked on all the doors and were almost ready to give up and head back into the car when someone finally stepped out and asked what we wanted. We chatted with the man that processes the soybeans into tofu and discovered a serendipitous surprise - these blocks of tofu that we were holding were made with the organic soybeans from Mark's farm, Barnyard Organics! Local, organic tofu at such a great price (and with such a great personal connection) led to our purchasing of six large blocks which the team devoured over the next few meals.

On the way back to the Arts & Heritage Centre in Alberton I thought about the full-circle we had just found ourselves in - meeting Mark at his farm just days before, sampling his soybeans and then eating the tofu that they were made into... "This is the epitome of the local experience we were all waiting for," I thought. And as we cycle on, despite the rain and chill winds that are common at this time of year, I know we are destined to meet more people and connect with them somehow, and I think to myself, "Yes - this feels right. This is what we were meant to do."

2010-09-19T00:43:00.001-04:00

RIP Andrew "Little" Wolf - Your team-mates miss you incredibly

Dear members of the Otesha family,

It is with deep sorrow that we report the death of one of our tour members, Andrew Wolf. Andrew was a member of The Otesha Project’s Highlands and Islands Tour. While cycling with the team in New Brunswick, he was struck by a transport truck and killed on Thursday, September 16th at 2:30 pm Atlantic time.

On behalf of the entire Otesha community, our thoughts and prayers go out to Andrew’s family, friends and members of the Highlands and Islands Tour. We all are shocked and deeply saddened. Andrew was a passionate and well-loved member of the Otesha community, and had been with the team since the start of the tour on September 7, 2010.

The team was travelling by bicycle across the Maritimes delivering environmental education programs that empower young people to make positive change in the world around them.

The accident took place yesterday afternoon on Highway 7 near Petersville Hill, New Brunswick, approximately 10 kilometers north of Welsford. The cyclists were travelling southbound when they were struck by a transport truck. Andrew was killed, and two other tour members were admitted to hospital; one was treated for a leg injury and the other with more minor injuries.

The RCMP have been in touch with the families of the team members affected. Otesha is also in ongoing communication with the families. During this difficult time, our greatest concern is ensuring the families and all participants are supported.

Kelly Bowden, a programs director with the Otesha Project who has been with the team since the tour started, is currently leading the response and working to meet the teams needs. Two other staff members have been sent to support her and the rest of the team. Grief counsellors, the Red Cross, and an outpouring of support from the local community are all helping the team cope with this tragedy. We are grateful for their immense kindness and support.

The team has decided to suspend the tour for the time being and will decide in the coming days whether to continue the tour. The Highlands Islands Tour is the final of three Otesha cycling and performing tours scheduled for the 2010 season.

We are all shaken by this terrible news, and this will be a difficult time for everyone in our extended Otesha family. We take solace in the strength of the community, which we will count on to support each other as we respond to this tragedy.

We would like to express our deep gratitude for the kind letters and offers of support coming from among the more than 350 alumni of the program and from the wider community. A group of supporters have set up a Facebook group - ‘In Otesha Solidarity’ - as a show of support to the team. Many others have been wearing their Otesha t-shirts and plan to do so at the upcoming critical mass bike ride taking place Friday September 24th in many cities across the world to honor Andrew.

For those who would like to share their condolences with Andrew’s family, the best way to contact Otesha is via email at response@otesha.ca. We will ensure the family receives all your messages of support. However, in the interest of directing our resources to best respond to these events, we ask that you refrain from calling, and have patience in hearing back from us. Live updates will be posted to our Twitter feed and Facebook page as we receive them.

At the request of the Wolf family, a fund has been established in Andrew's name that is to be used to help others to participate in Otesha cycling and performing tours. Those wishing to contribute to this fund can do so at the following giving page.

At this time we join with so many others to offer our thoughts and prayers to the Wolf family.

Love,

Jessica Lax and Jocelyn Land-Murphy
Co-founders
On behalf of the staff and Board of Directors of the Otesha Project

Updated September 18, 2010

2010-09-04T00:38:00.002-04:00

Off To The Highlands & Islands

Finally, my shitty week is over! I'm off bright and early tomorrow morning - and it looks like I've done it again: stayed up super late the night before a big trip stressing out about everything that isn't done until the last minute! I'm great at this planning stuff.

Tomorrow I pop my bike and two panniers into a rental car and take off for a drive across northern New York, Vermont and Maine (and I think I get a tad of New Hampshire in there somewhere too). I'm really going to enjoy those mountain and lake views. If all goes according to plan, I'm going to be camping in a cute spot Saturday night and making it to my meeting point for training in Fredericton by Sunday afternoon.

And then after that... who knows? It's going to be an intense group environment for two months, on bicycles!

For more info on what yours truly has gotten herself into this time, check out Otesha's bike tours (I'm on the Highlands & Islands trip)!

Updates from the road will hopefully be regular as I get one day off per week to do laundry and internet-y type things. Maybe one of these days I'll get around to calling the Belgian train company and crying to them about my lost journal.

2010-09-02T12:40:00.002-04:00

Two Sides To The Story

If I'm to be positive about my sojourn overseas this summer, it might sound a little like this:

Amsterdam was wonderful! I spent time with two good friends from work - in the mornings Lu and I would sleep in, relax with a coffee at a cafe, then walk around pretty, pretty Amsterdam with its canals and arched bridges. In the evenings we'd meet with Kevin, have some great beers, enjoy delicious meals and go for walks to see the city at night. We went dancing, and we enjoyed the delights that only Amsterdam can provide a person in comfort (yes - I do enjoy the effects that natural, pure herbs can have on a person - in fact, I enjoy it A LOT).

Kevin and I hopped on his motorcycle for a road trip that weekend and I fell in love with the Dutch countryside (and motorcycles too - SO COOL). We zipped around from beautiful town to beautiful town and by the end, I actually had a bit of Medieval town fatigue! We stayed in cute boutique hostels (more like hotels, really), ate well, and drank lots (come on, we were in Belgium!). We saw the Dutch and the Belgians rival it out at a karaoke bar and found a surprise music festival and joined in a for late-night DJ set in one of Europe's prettiest cities (seriously, partying in the public square in Bruges? Whodathunk?). We waved to fellow bikers on the road and fought against the serious, serious winds that beat along the coast. That weekend? Was awesome.

I had two more days to myself in Amsterdam after that - I walked, I trammed, I biked (felt very Dutch the day I biked in the rain with no jacket and a cell phone to my ear!). I went to market after market, had delicious coffee after coffee, and shopped until I came away with two lovely things for fantastic prices. I explored the city inside and out - it feels so nice to get to know a city, like really get to know it. I had a set of keys to an apartment, a cell phone, a transit card and a bike! Amsterdam was really great.

The music festival in Belgium, Pukkelpop, was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. To this day, the best way I can describe anything related to the festival is: MASS OF HUMANITY. There were people everywhere, so many people. Imagine the parking lot at Disney World - filled with tents. And now fill those tents with 17-year-old European teens looking to party for a few days.

"So what bands or musicians are you most looking forward to seeing?"

"Oh, we don't really know any of the bands."

A conversation with a 16-year-old Belgian kid opened our eyes to the fact that this is just what people do for fun over the summers in Europe - music festivals. You camp, you drink, you spray water at girls as they walk by, you go to a dance party or two and then stay up making noise until 4am. Repeat x4 days. Then you wear your collection of wristbands around all summer to show others that you're a veteran at this. Being about a decade older than most, Kev and I went to concert after concert because we were actually there for the MUSIC(!) and partied until our bodies were tired and sore. There is nothing, NOTHING like going to a DJ set by Benny Benassi in the middle of the afternoon. Or a Groove Armada or Major Lazer show. And no one throws a dance party like Hot Chip. I lost a lot of weight through sweat those few days. Don't worry - I found it again via eating nothing but fries with mayo for days.

One of my favourite moments from the festival though, had little to do with being at a show. No, it wasn't having to use porta-potties for 4 days (while nature decided to give me it's monthly gift), it wasn't lining up for an hour or two to get a shower, and no - it wasn't watching 300,000 people effectively destroy two massive fields over the course of 4 days. It was this: being high in the middle of a hot, hot day on the field, walking barefoot across the field (feeling every blade of grass on my soles (yes, being high does this)) to buy an ice cream. Walking back to my spot, sitting in the sun, and eating my ice cream, while some DJ spun a set that Kev was suredly dancing wildly to in a tent nearby. That's all. It had nothing to do with anything. Just enjoying the moment.

Leaving the festival was kind of like getting to the festival - this tiny Belgian town was completely taken over by people. We packed up en masse, we walked en masse, we crowded into the train station en masse. We pushed and shoved and forced our way onto trains, into seats, out of trains and finally - we lunched in Brussels. All I saw of Brussels was the train station, the little cafe across the street and my smoked salmon sandwich. I was so tired at that point I didn't really care to see more.

Then I hopped on the train to get to the airport so I could fly to Bordeaux and meet an ex-bf to cycle around for a few days. And really, I kind of stop having positive things to say at this point, but I'm going to try really hard:

Cycling around wine country in the south of France? Oh, it was everything a person from North America would imagine it to be. Bordeaux's centre is beautiful, just like any old French city (the outskirts, not so much at all). And riding along a beautiful bike trail through the countryside, breathing in fresh country air was just what I needed. We rode past cute towns along an old railway, stopped by vineyars to taste test their grapes, and picked wild blackberries along the road for a snack break. At nights we camped, cooked delicious meals with his little propane tank and mess kit and lay in the grass to enjoy the stars with a bottle of wine. We spent a day in St. Emilion, the heart, in our minds, of the wine region in France. We went to a little tasting, walked barefoot up and down its narrow, steep, cobbly streets, and discovered the town at night. It was beautiful, really.

Even the cycling did me good. I've got a big bike trip coming up and riding with a super athletic cyclist definitely whipped me into gear. We battled hills and headwinds and extreme sun and heat - I may have hated every minute of it then, but I knew it was doing me good in the end.

And that was it - that was my three weeks in Europe this summer, if I'm to be positive about it all. I need to be positive though, I need to remind myself that I had a really great trip and did some really great things. I mean, come on - Amsterdam was fantastic, a motorcycle trip was wicked, the music festival was cool, and I went cycling in the south of France through wine coutnry. Come ON! How lucky am I?

BUT:

My bag got stolen on the train. *breath* I cried. A lot.
I saw the boy I haven't been able to stop thinking about for 7 months. *breath*
He is still very wonderful and attractive. *deep breath*
I had to spend 5 days with him, cycling around, sharing beds, and a one-person tent. *hyperventilates* It was a bad idea.

I won't get into the nasty, heart-wrenching details and will only say that 1. I miss my clothes and my journal - oh, my poor, sweet journal and 2. my time with him was the life definition of BitterSweet. And it slowly ate at my insides the entire time I was with him. I didn't sleep well at all. Add that to the 4 nights I had at the festival and the fact that I cried the entire 23-hour journey home and I basically didn't sleep for two weeks.

Everything basically went downhill after my bag got stolen on the train. And it hasn't really stopped yet either. Life has been kicking my ass since I got home. My computer is fried, I had to get new panniers (YAY for spending so much more money after an expensive holiday), my allergies make me want to tear my nose off and claw my eyes out and I hear that a hurricane is about to hit the Atlantic coast this weekend, just in time for my arrival to train for my bike trip. PERFECT.

I've had many a distraught phone conversation and written many an upset email, but I guess the truth is this: It happened. Now move on. Anyone out there watch How I Met Your Mother? Barney says something that's been helping me out: "When I get sad, I stop being sad and be awesome instead. True story."

2010-08-28T19:39:00.003-04:00

Le Coeur Est Un Muscle Involontaire

Sometimes I think that I should have written this (or just something) months ago, but I tried and nothing came out. And as much as I think I have to say, and despite all that's already been said, I mostly feel like I have no words for this, for him, for how I feel about him. And that's rare. But I knew I had to do it, because for almost a year now I've said little to nothing and it's been festering in my brain and turning my heart into some useless organ like a tonsil. So I spoke and spoke and amazingly, I felt so much better once I wrote him this:

Hiya,

Here is my friend's address below - thanks again for taking that postcard and posting it for me. I owe you a stamp.

(Editor's note: Upon re-reading this myself, you should probably only read the rest of this email when you're ready to hear me again, and not when you're in a social situation looking to skim this quickly to see what's up. It might annoy and frustrate you, and I'd rather you just listen. Except for the PS, that's cool.)

And thanks for everything else: being patient when I was stressed out, waiting for me at the top of hills, and... well, you know. Everything. Like I said, and like we agreed, I had a nice time. It was unfortunate that it ended the way it did, the last night being how it was - I'm still not sure how I feel about the both of us admitting that meeting up was a "Mistake" - I just had to say some things out loud and be honest with you before I left (I don't mean to frustrate you, sorry for keeping you up). I know you're not one to dwell on emotional things (and it seems that I am), but I needed some resolution to the last memory I had of you - just a quick kiss on the lips on the street corner with the promise of something ...more later. We didn't want a big Goodbye because it wasn't going to be one. It's just taking me a while to get used to the idea that we were once crazy about each other despite the whereabouts of a particularly large pond, but not so much anymore. Though, I'm probably still crazy in a whole other way...

Like I said, I just wanted to tell you that I miss you, and though it was brief, I miss being with you. I know that I will one day forget the sweet things you said to me, and the way it felt to have you shake my hand as you held it walking down the street, or rest your foot on top of mine as we chatted, and how I felt when I looked in your eyes as we shared the tiny details of our lives - but for now, these memories haunt me gently.

I know I can be maddeningly hyperbolic, but if such a thing exists, to me, this is all Honest Hyperbole.

It seems we're both searching for the same things (no, I'm not just looking for someone that I simply work and travel well with, and no, I don't want to take on someone else's interests as my own, and yes, I too believe in having things that are Mine and Mine Alone) - the want for that Great, Deep Love sometimes feels like it's about to swallow me whole. I find it curious that I might have actually met someone who, like me, has built it up so much in their head that we might just be in love with the idea of Love itself. I'm not sure how you're feeling reading all this (hopefully you are resisting the urge to vomit a bit in your mouth), but: I feel I could have loved you greatly, if only you had let me - or if only Time and Chance allowed us to actually try. The fact that you don't want to though, nullifies that, of course. (That Click you speak of, I could have swore it was there...) I am sure that when we both sort ourselves and our ideas out in our minds, the people we do choose to love in this lifetime will be very, very lucky.

When I was in the kitchen preparing our dinner that last night at the hostel, the nice Portuguese woman asked me if you were my boyfriend. With a smile and a heavy heart, I shook my head and told her "No. Amigo. Friend." She nodded, paused, and asked if you were a "special friend." With a tear in one eye and the creases of a knowing smile in the other, I nodded and said, "Yes, very special."

Of course, I wish you lots of happiness and all of the greatest things that the world has to offer, not just because you're entitled to it, but because you do actually deserve it.

Hopefully you had some nice things to say to your friend when he asked how it went.

-me.

[PS: On a much, much lighter note - curious coincidences strike us again. You say your computer is kaput, and unluckily, so is mine (so you were smart in keeping some important photos on your memory card...) I'm taking it in stat so I can save what I can. Mercury has actually been in retrograde since the 20th or so (this usually causes technological problems) so perhaps this will show you that meta-physics aren't that far off after all....eh?]

2010-08-08T23:06:00.006-04:00

Whirlwinding Off To The EU

Two Mondays ago I was stressing out over the fact that I had soo much to do (finish projects at work, pack up and move out of my apartment, buy more bike gear, etc.) before I left for Europe when it hit me - I wasn't going to Europe at all if I didn't have a ticket booked. Sure, I had plans and conversations and ideas all sketched out on my calendar, but they were all going on in MY HEAD and that was not going to land me a seat on a plane bound for the other side of the Atlantic. So I sucked it up and booked my flights: from Toronto to Amsterdam and then from Bordeaux to Montreal. I'll just have to make sure I get to Bordeaux okay and then I gotta get home from Montreal... I'm sure the Universe will help me take care of the details.

I travel like this a lot; I just book my flight from Home to There and then from There to Home and figure out the stuff in between as I go. This works well sometimes and not so well other times (like the time I got off a bus in a small town in Morocco and realized I had no idea where I was and where I was going to sleep that night. I was also drugged up on Reactine (allergic to mosquito bites, I am) and that was a BAD SCENE). But then, there was last summer - full of last minute decisions - and last summer was so great that it feels like I carry it around with me on my wrists like a sweet perfume.

I will admit that I can't remember the last time I felt so unprepared for a trip though. I mean, it just hit me yesterday that I fly TOMORROW evening and I have hardly done a thing to prep for my leaving for three weeks. I know people who count down three and a half weeks (THREE AND A HALF WEEKS!) in advance of a trip and here I am, trying to tie up loose ends the night before. Life is just a wild whirlwind for me sometimes.

I may be flailing last minute, but I'm stoked. I'm hanging out in Amsterdam with my ex-roomie and another good friend, I'll be biking out into the countryside some days, then we'll be riding his motorcycle through the Netherlands and Belgium for the weekend. And in a week and a half I'll be lying in a giant field somewhere in rural Belgium at Pukkelpop, a giant music festival where the line-up is over 100 strong. 100 bands/artists/DJs in 3 days! I think I'm going to overdose on sheer aural stimulation.

I find my way to Bordeaux right after the festival and hopefully recover in time to bike along the south-western coast of France for a few days. Camping along the coast or at a vineyard in the interior is in the plans... though this is a good time to admit that I'm planning on doing all this with uhm, Paris Boy. You know, Boy Wonder from last summer, whose loss I've been lamenting for well, six or seven or so months now. Don't ask me how biking in and around Bordeaux happened, just don't. Just wish me luck that I come out of this feeling okay.

In other news, I got a sleeping bag (a huge YAY!), have finished all the major shopping for my bike trip (just missing a few small things), am learning to ride with newly added weight (and hills, and headwinds...), and am more comfortable with my bike shoes. Yipee! I also moved out of my apartment all by myself, redid my closet (yowza), took my fam on a fantastic long-weekend road trip, and baked my dad a beautiful cake for his birthday (and made sangria!).

Still haven't done my taxes though.

No wonder I feel whirlwind-y.

2010-07-29T23:46:00.002-04:00

Lunchtime Lessons

My co-workers and I sat around the board room table today and had lunch together; we ordered gourmet pizza, someone brought in slices of watermelon and then there were surprise raspberry tarts... all in honor of yours truly leaving her post at the office for the next three and a half months. Gosh I love working with a team of women. Of course, the main topic of conversation was my cycling trip and how preparations were going. One of my biggest challenges, I mentioned, was dealing with my pains in my butt. Despite having invested in padded bike shorts, there are some days when I crriiinge as I settle into my seat. And there's nothing I can do to help myself either - the pain is so internal it feels like I'm just sitting on my bones regardless of how much padding I have, natural or otherwise. The ladies suggested that I have another butter tart or two to help with the extra cushioning.

It's the end of the work day and there I am, riding away from the bike shop where I had just picked up my baby, who had been in to get dolled up (my bike's now been outfitted with fenders, a bike rack, panniers, and a kickstand - and holy crap I can no longer lift her with one hand anymore!). In addition to all this new gear on my bike, I had also decided it was finally time to try on my clip shoes. I had given myself enough time to get used to riding again, and now it was time to amp up my training/learning. I now had extra weight and I thought that I should really learn to wear and use the shoes I paid a dear $150 for.

The one time I tried them was in the store when I was getting fitted to my bike (rather, I suppose the bike was being fitted to *me* - there's nothing like having stuff customized to suit you perfectly) and clipping in and out was difficult. With the number of red lights and the amount of stopping I do when I'm riding in the city, I thought that it would be useless to have these shoes, but then again, I was going on a long distance trip... Anyway, I didn't think it could be that bad. I mean, I had talked to numerous people in good detail about using the shoes and I had recently rode behind someone for about an hour and watched as he constantly clipped in an out - it didn't look *that* hard. So I strapped myself into the shoes, rode slowly around the block and kept clipping in and out to get the hang of it. And like I thought - it wasn't *that* bad.

Perhaps it wasn't a very smart idea to combine learning two things at once - what it's like to ride with clip shoes AND weight/panniers. Because when I got to a stop light at the end of my spin around the block, I had managed to unclip my right foot (good!) which is all I've ever needed to stop at a light in the past, but (and here's where the 2-in-1 learning combo was a bad thing) I guess the weight in my panniers wasn't exactly even (not good) and my mind kind of freaked out because it's not used to having my left foot attached to the bike (also not good). So in a moment of split-second panic I tried to unclip my left foot and in doing so totally threw off my balance (bad) and simply toppled over (bad!) into the street (very bad!). I landed with a thud and clangs and the girl who had stopped in front of me spun around to find me lying in the middle of the road (very, very bad!) with my bike half on top of me. At least my left foot had come unclipped in the falling process (not bad at all).

A bit horrified, she asked, "Are you okay?!" I was fine. I picked myself up, got the bike upright again and all I had to say was, "New clip shoes." She understood and gave me some encouraging words as she pedaled away (so did the man who saw me fall as he was crossing the street - oh, public embarrassment). I was happy with one thing though: I laughed about it. I chuckled and smiled and really, genuinely laughed about my spill for at least another block. The idea of falling off a bike is definitely worse than the actual fall itself. Oh don't get me wrong, my left elbow and left ass cheek are sore as heck from taking all my weight onto the pavement, but I'm not seriously injured or anything. Let me say though, that I was super, SUPER lucky that there was no car in the lane next to me! I would have fallen right into the passenger side window and slid down the side of the car with my bike still attached to me (that would have been very, VERY bad).

The rest of my evening ride went along without incident. I practiced clipping and unclipping some more and I'm slowly getting the hang of it. I also noticed that I definitely move slower now that I've got a few extra kilos on me.

The funny thing was though, I fell again as I pulled up to my apartment building at the end of the evening. It was the same right foot free, mind wanting the left foot free too, sudden knee-jerk reaction and the slow-mo topple onto my left side. That's probably the worst part: when you KNOW you're about to fall, but there's absolutely nothing you can do about it except watch yourself. This time, no one asked if I was okay - not even the couple who were loading their car right beside me. And this time I'm only kind of okay - my elbow is going to bruise big time for sure, and my left ass cheek is red and really, really sore. Like, I'm ready to limp sore.

Maybe I should have taken the ladies advice at lunch and eaten a few more raspberry tarts.

2010-07-26T23:00:00.004-04:00

Progress Report

Hardware/'big' stuff
- bike rack, ~~panniers (about 50L capacity)~~, fenders
- bike multi-tool, ~~tire patch/repair kit~~, small pump, ~~extra set of tire tubes~~ and spokes, chain lube and rag, bungee cables
- compact sleeping bag and ~~sleeping mat~~, small pillow
- ~~compression sack~~s (need two more)

'Smaller' gear stuff:
- ~~lights~~, ~~bike bell~~, ~~bike mirror~~
- reflective vest and tape
- short and ~~long fingered bike gloves~~
- ~~another pair of bike shorts~~
- ~~rain shoe covers~~

Not bad, eh?

BUT, my To Do List...
- finish buying bike gear
- book flights to Europe (I leave in two weeks, but not if I don't book anything!)
- pack up and move out
- finish stuff at work
- take my fam on a long weekend road-trip
- keep riding and training!
- do taxes

I shopped all weekend, and tonight too - I am so, soo tired of shopping! And I've spent so much more money than I ever thought was necessary. Biking is an expensive hobby to start up - who knew! Despite all that, I have to go out again tomorrow - I need a good bike rack and fenders and I can't just go to the regular co-op to get those apparently. I can't even get a regular kickstand! My bike is just too special. Specialty (read: expensive) bike shops, here I come. Then I have to conquer my sleeping bag purchase and then I can relax a bit. Actually, I may end up re-thinking my sleeping mat because I went for something that will be cushy and roomy, but at the cost of taking up extra space and adding more weight to my load. Can't wait to pack my panniers and go on my first ride with a full load on!

2010-07-22T20:50:00.008-04:00

Adventure Lies Ahead

In an effort to NOT TALK ABOUT IT I'm going to tell you about my new, upcoming adventure. This is an email that I sent to friends, family, colleagues, etc. to let them know what was up with me lately:

Hello hello to those near and dear...

Hi!

I'm writing to say hello, but I'm also writing because I am embarking on a new adventure soon and thought you might be interested in hearing about it! I am still working at the student travel company managing a team of tour leaders (a job that I am so lucky to have because I love it), but am taking some time off in the fall to pursue a little project (detailed below). The message below is a bit long, but I’d love it if you read on when you’ve got a few spare minutes!

I just got accepted into a program that I think will be my coolest endeavour yet: an Otesha cycling and performing tour. For those who haven’t heard of it, Otesha is a charitable organization that brings people together to form a mobile community (on bicycles!) to promote a sustainable lifestyle and earth-friendly choices to youth via performances and workshops at schools and community centers. They’re also really into biking, which is where I come in.

In a couple months’ time I will be embarking on what I’m sure will be a life altering experience, for myself and hopefully for others that will be touched by this program. I am joining The Otesha Project on their 2-month Highlands & Islands bike trip around the Maritimes – cycling 2,000km from Fredericton, through New Brunswick, all around Prince Edward Island and through Nova Scotia to end in Halifax from September 7th to November 2nd. Yowza!

Visit the Otesha site to check out our tour so far (scroll down to Highlands & Islands). You can see our route, the cities we’ll be visiting and when, and bios of the team members are up as well (mine included)! If you know of anyone in the area that would be interested in having the Otesha team visit, you can fill out a form to request our presence!

I have begun preparations – though it was a bit slow going since it was our busy travel season! I purchased a new road bike (mine is a very nice feminine white and pink, not black - gotta love merchandising for women), a new helmet (also with pink stripes), fancy bike shoes that clip into my pedals, padded bike shorts, a bike computer (to track times and distances), and some rain gear (waterproof jacket and pants) since I expect that it will get a bit wet during our rides. Luckily, everything purchased so far has either been on sale, I’ve found coupons for them, or they were really fair prices - phew! The list seems long, but there is still so much more to go! I am still shopping for a sleeping bag and mat, a bike rack and panniers/saddle bags, reflective gear, bike gloves, shoe covers, and even simple things like a bell, and lights for late-evening rides. The list goes on! And a physical training-program has just started…!

A few weeks ago, an Otesha trip came through Toronto (the Ferocious Farm tour) and I went to see the performance that I would be doing myself in a couple months’ time. I was thrilled to see the play that I will be performing in myself (it’s wonderful! charming, funny, and full of good messages). I met team members, checked out their bikes and gear, and picked their brains on what the journey has been like so far. I finally had the answer to the question I had been asking myself for months, “What have I gotten myself into?!” The answer is: Something simply amazing.

It is quite the undertaking and I will admit that I am both slightly terrified and totally psyched for what is to come. I am about one-third of the way through my required gear list and have yet to start fundraising to meet my goal of $2,250. All the work I have done has been in the background up until now, and I have been building up the courage (and time) to reach out and ask for some support.

I truly and whole-heartedly believe in what I will be doing with Otesha. Living on a bicycle for two months, riding around to visit schools to do performances and host workshops with students, encouraging them to make responsible choices and take care of the earth. We will be promoting a very simple, grassroots kind of lifestyle – I am excited to really practice what I preach and set an example for others, but most importantly, for myself.

If you support these ideas, or just support *me* in supporting these ideas, then I would ask that you please consider donating to my Otesha Journey...(insert info on how to donate here).

As always, thank you for all your support in my wacky endeavours (past, present, and future!). It is much, much appreciated.

So that's that. I never thought I'd ever find such a quirky combination of random things I love in life. I mean, I've always wanted to go on a performance tour because it's been two years since I've been on stage and I miss it. So to find a performance tour about sustainability that goes around on bicycles just about put me over the moon. For years I told people that I wanted to get into "environmental education" one day, not really knowing what a job in that non-existent field would look like. And now I found something that brought that phrase to life. It's right up my alley.

Work is, in a word, WONDERFUL (and also UNBELIEVABLE) because they are
1. letting me go
2. letting me come back when I'm done
3. donating $2,000 to my project contribution (and thus I went above and beyond my goal of $2,250 because otherwise? I don't think I could have).
Seriously, I found a job that lets me do stuff I really like, gives me 5 weeks of holiday every summer, and then lets me take off for 2 months in the Fall to bike around the east coast of Canada? UNREAL. I am a lucky, lucky ass biatch.

So I no longer need to worry about fundraising, which is a ginormous stress off my shoulders. Now I just need to worry about getting the rest of my gear together. If anyone has cyclist friends who have stuff to sell or donate, please get me in touch with them! I am still looking for:

Hardware/'big' stuff
- bike rack, panniers (about 50L capaccity), fenders
- bike multi-tool, tire patch/repair kit, small pump, extra set of tire tubes and spokes, chain lube and rag, bungee cables
- compact sleeping bag and sleeping mat, small pillow
- compression sacks

'Smaller' gear stuff:
- lights, bike bell, bike mirror
- reflective vest and tape
- short and long fingered bike gloves
- another pair of bike shorts
- rain shoe covers

...and an accountant - I still haven't done my taxes.

2010-07-12T22:36:00.005-04:00

Uhm, Bummed

I don't know how else to explain it.

I don't know what's gotten into me - or out of me, for that matter. It's like something in my head just got up and left me one morning, leaving my mind voiceless to this blog that I've kept bits and pieces of my life in for seven years. It's not like my life took a dramatic change and I didn't feel like talking about it to anyone. It's not like I didn't desire to keep writing and sharing here or that I ran out of things to talk about. My life may not have taken a great turn in any direction, but I'll always have something to talk about, trust me. Sometimes it just feels like that sleep I wrote about needing in October of last year when I came back from Paris was just a really, really long nap. So I entitled that one post in February the way I did, to try and prove a point to my brain that I indeed have woken up from said nap. I guess it was more like I rolled over to hit the snooze button.

Either way, I'm here. And what I have to say...well, I just I don't know if it'll be any good. But I'm saying it anyway.

It feels funny - to suddenly go so long without something that you once held very dear to you, and central to your being. I thought about it all the time (the fact that I wasn't writing here anymore and still really wanted to) - every day in fact, but didn't do anything about it. That's not true. I did try. Periodically, I'd get a good idea for a post and bookmark it in my head for later when I had some time at the computer. I'd open up a fresh, clean text box and after typing a few words... nothing. I just sat there with my hands off the keyboard, stared at the screen and sighed. I suppose it's kind of like breaking up. You've got something every day for a handful, or two, of years and then it just kind of... stops. Slowly. It leaves you or you leave it, but either way, something goes a-way. And you're kind of watching it crumble right before your eyes, and you know you can't really stop it so you sit there with your hands at your sides and just ...stare. You don't know how you're going to continue on without it, but somehow, you just do.

Gee, sounds like I suffered another heart injury and I'm back to my old self, doesn't it? I do mean to talk about the blog - and how not having it, not actively engaging with it for the past many months, resembles a broken relationship that I'm still unearthing myself from.

The funny thing about this one is that it WON'T GO AWAY. And it's been bugging me since January - that's SIX MONTHS, PEOPLE. I get that it always takes me some time - moreso than the average bear - but my gahd, I'm starting to either seriously question the Universe on why the hell it's f-ing with me AGAIN, or just straight up question my mental and emotional health and general well-being. Because this? This wasn't an episode of I've-been-in-love-with-the-guy-for-ten-years and it wasn't like the time I wanted to marry him but then he went and swallowed two bottles of Aspirin. This? Was a classic example of why two awesome kids who are into each other but live an ocean apart can't make it work. It's a story of a girl and a boy who spent six months learning about each other over the phone and free VOIP software and spent the few moments they did have in person tangled up in each other's arms and legs and tongues and clear-sky eyes and crooked smiles only to realize it was all for naught in the end. It's a story of utter heartach- nay, DREAMache because this time? I really thought I was so close.

But COME ON. I knew it wasn't going to work from the get-go. I was skeptical and sarcastic about it - heck, I thought I even tried to hold back a bit (mission unsuccessful, but still, the idea was there) and that's a big sign that I was trying to keep it casual. So this is why I'm crazy: I kept saying that it probably wasn't going to work out, and then it didn't work out. I was right and now I'm sad.

Big deal. Get a grip, woman!

While I'm here ranting, I will also admit these other things:
- I miss him. A lot. It hurts.
- I wonder what his purpose in my life was
- Did he somehow, in some way, affect my not writing on this blog for such a long period? If so, WHY?!
- I've noticed that every time something bad-boy-related happens, I feel better after I write about it a few times and let the whine out. Will I start to feel better after this?

Also - Merry Christmas, Happy 2010, I'm going on a two-month bike trip soon, I turned 26, yay summer is here(!), an- ohmygod. MY TAXES. Shit!

2010-02-25T00:14:00.002-05:00

Awoken

Sent: Tue, February 23, 2010 11:02:11 AM
Subject: Re: pie

Hi darling,

Gosh, I didn't write back to you because I wanted to talk to you instead, but it's been almost a week and a half! And now I feel terrrrible. Anyway - I miss you! Funny how it's felt like forever since I talked to you, but also not really... I guess that's what texting can be good for - letting you feel like you're keeping in touch! I also want to say that I love love love it when we write to each other and getting this email was lovely!

At work today with cheese, crackers and avocado. Mmmm I loooove avocado. Been having a funny couple days where I just don't feel like doing any work. There's tons for me to do, but I'm feeling like a slack-o-saurus. I'm also generally tired from not enough sleep because I've been staying up to watch the Olympics! Have you been following them? I was up to past 1am the last two nights watching ice dancing - SO good. We got gold! Wooo hooo!

So, because it's been so long since you wrote this, I haven't followed up on anything you told me - what happened with the new car Arny wanted? Has stuff been better at home (like with the rent money and stuff)? And I know you met with Vern and gave your phone back... what happened with that? AND you said that you might come down to the city to go to the reference library? And maybe stay for a night? I'm not working late anymore (at least not for interviews) so I'm glad to have you over and we can go out and hang out!

Okay - onto the real meat of this email (or rather, the pie-filling...)

I've been thinking about your pie theory too and about what you wrote... and I have to admit that I've dreamt about us having that life for a long time - you know, like you said - living with your best friend in a GREAT city, trying new recipes, taking neat classes, going out and having fun at funk lounges and stuff - I mean, who doesn't want that kind of life? Ever since we lived together at the Marshall St house we've talked about it and how amazing it would be and I want it too ....

I guess it's just funny timing - with you being there and me being here it's been hard to coordinate. And now that you're ready - mentally ready, and you're finally done with your job - I'm getting antsy. I don't really have a plan, it's all just been daydreaming. But I am daydreaming about doing something different - like you want to do something different and big and make this move to the city, and I want to do something different and big and make the move to another city. I just wished that we synced up! But I'll share what I've been daydreaming about:

Last week sometime, I made a list of the things I could do if I left my job: I could go to French camp again, and I could attend those one-week seminars in the US I used to do, I could take a recruitment contract with WLU for a few months again, save up and then take off across Canada, or to South America, or go through rural China to Tibet to Nepal to Northern India and hike the Himalayas, or ride the Trans-Siberian through Mongolia and Russia and end up in Europe to hike the Camino de Santiago - and you know what I realized? If I left my job, I could do ANYTHING. And it was so empowering. It's like you said, we're 25. And my god, all of the sudden I realized how much potential that holds - this is our prime - we have our youth and our health and (some) wealth and NOTHING tying us down. No dependents, no assets - just friends and family that will be with us wherever we go anyway...

My mind has been reeling lately. And I'll admit that Chris probably incited it with his ditching me to feed his need for adventuring. Maybe that was his purpose in my life. My brain feels like it WOKE UP from a deep slumber and starting thinking and it feels energized and ALIVE and hungry... I went to the library last week looking for inspiration in the travel section and I picked up these books - two of them, stories about young men in their 20s who picked up and left what they knew to discover things they only dreamed about, and their lives changed forever, inspiring people everywhere. This isn't to say that I'm dreaming of changing the world - I'm just dreaming of having the world change me.

Sometimes I feel stifled by the life we have here - I love it, and I'm comfortable and this will always be Home - but sometimes I wonder if maybe I'd fit better somewhere else, and I'll never know until I try it. There's always been those two sides to me - one that wants that swanky life in North America, with the nice loft apartment and sparkly clothes and shiny things and booze at night, but the other side of me wants the opposite in a far away land where none of that material stuff matters. Maybe that's why my mind is going haywire these days - I'm finally at a point in my life where I can figure that dichotomy out, and figure out what I want. Finally.

So that's the thing - I want what you want too, but maybe just later. Or maybe this whole daydream will fall apart and I'll stay. Either way, I think I'm going to try for something. And here's what I got (don't be freaked out): I went on the company's internal site and looked at job postings around the world - a month ago none of them interested me, but now I'm eyeing China. When I was home for Chinese New Year I realized that I ache when I think about my heritage and how much I don't know about it. I'm so proud and intrigued by my ancestry and all the things that my family does - the customs, traditions and food, etc. etc. - and I can't say it any other way than, "I want to be more Asian." I'll probably still be the whitest Chinese girl around, but I just want to learn more. So whereas I wouldn't have thought twice about China before, it became the first link I clicked on.

There's an office in Beijing that has open applications for Tour Leaders/Tour Guides and they want people who are Chinese but speak other languages (English, French, German, etc.) and it sounds PERFECT. I don't know a lot about it, but it sounds like they train you to take tours around China for foreign tourists. I'm going to apply. I still need to do lots of thinking (like Annia said, I'm tired and overworked and I need to pause and take inventory), but I want to apply - and I will. Something might happen, nothing might happen, but I feel like I owe it to myself to at least TRY to do something.... different.

So - that's what's been going on in my head lately. It already sounds like a lot, and there's more beyond it too. And I wanted to share it - and not have it freak you out. Because at the end of the day, I want you to do something different too, whether it be quitting your job or moving cities or whatever - just something different. Of course, I feel guilty that this might affect your thinking of moving negatively, but I can't stress enough how I don't want that to happen. I want that life with you too - but I can't stand the idea that you wouldn't go for it just because I might not be around. Go for it!

Or it's like I said that night you were working on your resume and cover letter in the bathroom - get that job at Port Cares, save up and we'll hit the road and go across Canada together. And THEN maybe I'll go to Beijing. Who knows - our opportunities, I've re-realized, are endless.

Love you muchly,
-me.

2009-11-03T22:45:00.000-05:00

Dear Me

Happy 7th Anniversary, Bloggy Dear.

Just checking in to say that I'm alive, overworked, feeling old and partied out from the weekend, wanting to lose anywhere from 10-15 pounds, and trying to tame the giant, green jealousy monster that threatens to leap out and swallow me whole because my friend who's a boy over the ocean is going to stay with a friend who's a gir- OH WAIT she's his EX-GIRLFRIEND- for a night en route to party somewhere in England.

I think I need to re-evaluate.

Also, for the record, this is the first time in six years or so that I haven't dressed up as Cho Chang for Halloween. I was a Flirty Flight Attendant, thankyouverymuch.

Holy crap - I've had this thing for SEVEN YEARS and that's all I have to say?

2009-10-15T22:15:00.004-04:00

Post-Fun Fatigue

[That sure does sound a lot nicer than "jet-lag", don't you think?]

Walking to his apartment from the train station, enjoying the fresh breeze (even dirty Parisian air is nice after being stuck in a plane between Coughy and Sneezy), I realized I had never been on holiday during the Autumn before. It's true what they say - Paris is nice in the Fall. There are indeed less tourists, the climate is nicer, the parks are lovely with the trees turning golden orange-red-brown and no, it doesn't really rain that much. Even if it did rain, I was in Paris with a cute boy that I like - of course I had a good time. Heck, I could be anywhere in the world with a cute boy I like and I'd have a ball.

We spent most of our time enjoying each others' company and not doing anything particularly special or holiday-ish so that when I returned to the office I didn't have any answers for, "Oooh, what did you do? Well, what was your favourite thing? And what fancy pastries did you eat?"

We did have a couple nice meals out, we even went to the opera (a surprise from him, and for serious - the MOST magnificent building I have EVER been inside), we went to some fancy schmancy fashion film festival, we even shared a new fancy pastry, and took off to Oslo for a weekend... but really, what I remember and miss the most is how his eyes look like they hold within them a whole other universe and the softness of his cheeks, even when he hasn't shaven for a few days. (Oslo was really super awesome, by the way.)

Going back to work was rough for a few reasons - spending a week and a half snogging with a boy who has a cold is bound to knock down my immune system and travelling while sick is no good, never mind going straight into a work week after engaging in transatlanticism. There's also no cute, sick boy at my office with those eyes and those cheeks. In addition to missing being over the sea, I'm utterly exhausted. Completely wiped out. Totally bagged. I was in bed last night at 8:30pm. And the only reason I'm up 2 hours later tonight? Boy wonder called.

This weekend I'm looking forward to hunkering down in bed and just sleeping, sleeping, sleeping.

2009-10-05T09:23:00.002-04:00

Busted

During an innocent visit to my new favourite place in Paris (a bookstore, go figure), he found out that I blog. It was my fault really. How else do I explain buying a gift for someone I know in California, but whom I've never met? So, he knows. And though he never once asked where to find THIS EXACT PLACE on the internet wherein I share intimate details of my life, I'm sure one day he will. And then I'll start to really worry.

In the meantime, I will continue in my regular ways by telling you:

It's almost 3:30pm where I am. We just finished breakfast not too long ago (homemade eggs benny) - mmm... Boy wonder went off to work and I'm trying to get myself to finally jump in the shower. I'll go get a Metro pass soon, maybe do some shopping, and then hit up the grocery store. I'm making my famous guacamole tonight. And after that, ...who knows?

What are you doing tonight?

2009-09-30T22:12:00.007-04:00

Ten Years Later: The Antarctica Post

I admit that I love lists. I make a TO DO list every week, every weekend, every other day. My lists keep my mind and my life in order, and there is something so completely satisfying about being able to cross an item off - so it looks like the strikethrough font, as Microsoft calls it. Every check mark, every line through a word, every time I scribble over A Thing To Do is like the moment a big toe crosses a finish line. I'm earning myself tiny medals everyday for completing my little goals, one To Do item at a time. Sometimes there are tasks I never conquer - like my taxes - and they sit there on my lists staring back at me, whole words unmarred by checks and lines and scribbles that get transferred from list to list, each time re-written with the hope of a future accomplishment, but sometimes... I don't win these little victories.

I've had one item on my To Do list since June (which isn't that bad when you consider the fact that my taxes have been on my lists since March). It's been written and re-written onto countless lists, even typed out into electronic task managers in the (glorious, glorious!) world of digital calendars. But tonight, at midnight, this item will disappear - not because I've gone and done it, but simply because I'm too late - it expires.

A few months ago, J sent me an email. It wasn't anything elaborate, just a fragment of a sentence and a link to something he thought I might be interested in. He wished me all the best before signing off. He had found a contest where the prize was a trip to Antarctica and all you had to do was blog your way there. Sure enough, I was interested - I've "always" wanted to go to Antarctica and yes(!) I can blog. This sounded like something that I could actually do. I checked out the site, read the rules, bookmarked it in my head, and told myself I'd have to do it later - hey, I was busy.

Days passed, and I went from city to city. Weeks came and went and I found myself overseas, country to country. But no matter where I was, his email, this contest, was always on my mind. I'm on holiday, I thought, I'll get to it when I'm home. Before I knew it, August arrived and I found myself in my desk chair in front of the computer with a week off before I went back to work. This is perfect! I said to myself, I've got a whole week to really write something good. Really GOOD. I pumped myself up. It's gonna be touching and DEEP. And I gotta make it funny, and COOL and ...awesome. Yeah, I can do that. But it's gotta be short and sweet because they only take 300 words... And then I freaked out because all of the sudden I didn't know what to say anymore.

---

I remember the first time he brought it up. We were in high school - I was 15 and him, maybe 17? - and volunteering at the local bingo hall one night. It was our turn to go into the smoking section, and my goodness, the smoke was so thick in there you could hardly see your friends through the glass walls. He came up to a friend and I and just threw it out there: "Hey, would you guys ever want to go to Antarctica?" Our friend thought it was a wild, ridiculous notion - just the kind of thing I liked. My eyes widened. I enthusiastically asked questions, nodded my head vigorously - and that's how it started.

He had found the website about a month before departure and the trip organizer was gracious enough to let us both on the expedition - on the condition that we pay the fee of $8,800 each. Ten years ago, that was a crap load of money for a teenager - it still is. We couldn't afford it without help, so we had to fundraise and solicit sponsors. The next couple of weeks found us writing letters and emails, making phone calls, faxing papers, leaving messages from home and from the office at school where we would spend all of our spare hours. We went store to store at the mall, I told old teachers from elementary school and called every local business listed in the yellow pages. We even got ourselves in the local paper and set up an account where community members could make donations. Someone deposited $20. A couple years later it got eaten up by bank fees.

Suffice to say, we never did get the money to go on the trip. The night before we officially gave up I was making phone calls at midnight, leaving messages on answering machines. I got scolded pretty badly when I woke a shopkeeper up - he thought it was an emergency. "But... it is an emergency," I thought.

For Christmas that year, my closest friends brought us to Antarctica - they had made stuffed penguins and polar bears and set up my friend's basement to be like the Antarctic journey we were 'supposed' to be going on. When I opened my eyes and saw what they had done, I cried. I still have that penguin they made.

J would go on to tell me that the whole Antarctica episode was what really brought us closer together - to him, at least. After a while, I admit that I started seeing the continent as our goal, our thing. The years that followed saw us as friends, lovers, and when we became strangers, he went on the expedition by himself. Of course, he never told me he was planning on it, that he had started fundraising - but I heard about it all the same (I really don't like sharing friends with ex's). It was a sobering moment when I found out he was going because our thing, of course, was no longer ours. His point was made pretty clear when he returned the cheque I wrote - a measly $100, but hey, I thought it would be nice to help. This was all his, and he didn't want any part of me, not my pennies and not even my goodwill, to be a part of it.

I guess I can understand that. Really, I do understand. And if I'm completely honest, I'll admit that I might have done the same if it was me. But here's the thing - since that moment in that smoky bingo hall, I've felt like I was a part of it and that the whole Antarctica thing was a part of me. For years, when people asked me where the first place I would travel to is, I said Antarctica. My eyes always wander in that direction on maps. And here's something I don't tell people often: every year when winter is about to come, I, without fail, visit the same website he found ten years ago. I look up the expeditions that are coming up, I check the prices ($12,500 nowadays), and read about people's experiences. A few times I downloaded the application to be a chaperone and almost started to fill it out. The newspaper article of us, yellow and fading, is saved in a folder. I still have the departure package we received in the mail, ten years ago, when the trip organizer thought that we might actually be able to find $8,800 each within a month and make it on the expedition. So when I got that email from him, I thought that I would actually do it.

Of course, I stopped myself. I didn't even try. I never drafted a single thing, never wrote even a word. Why? Because I didn't know how to say all of THIS in 300 words and make it fun, and cool, and awesome. In the end, I'm glad I didn't try to encapsulate this history and post it for all the world to see (er... I realize the irony). No one wants to read a sob story as an entry in a contest, and a sob story sure as heck wasn't going to garner me thousands upon thousands of votes. I realized I couldn't make it fun though; I couldn't be all, "Ooh! Look at me! Send me on this trip because I *heart* ice and penguins and I write good!" I'm still not able to think about Antarctica without getting all serious, and ...mopey. I mean, did you read what I just wrote or what?

---

Why do I want to go to Antarctica? For all the reasons anyone wants to go: I love to travel, I have an insatiable interest in the environment and different ecosystems, I want to do something different, it's the Last Continent, I sleep with a stuffed penguin every night and really - Why not? I have a million reasons to go, but there's got to be at least one reason why I don't want to go, because otherwise I wouldn't have chickened out so badly. The email wasn't even one full and complete sentence, but held in it a whole world of history and emotions that I didn't know what to do with. So I did nothing.

*breath* So there we go - a little victory that I didn't win (it's not the first time). I hope that my inner self can agree with my fingers when I type that while I didn't win, I don't feel like I lost anything. I hope that I have at least gained a sense of ... acknowledgment. I hope that I have come to terms with the fact that this was never my goal. Sure, one day I'd still like to go to Antarctica, but it'd be nice if I could stop giving it such significance. I guess J was right, it really was his. It wasn't even my idea. It was never my race to finish, never my battle to fight, never my war to win. Oh, Antarctica: never my To Do Item to cross off.

2009-09-29T22:29:00.001-04:00

Post Date Lament

The date? It did not go well. And while I wish I could leave it at that and desperately forget about it, the whole evening haunts me still. I use the words "whole evening" in a very loose way - I spent a total of an hour and a half with the guy and it was an hour and a half too much. I have never so badly wanted one of my friends or family members to be seriously hurt so that I could have an excuse to leave. I can't describe all the ways in which it was terrible (SO TERRIBLE!), so I will remember that I have no regrets in life as long as I learn valuable lessons from all of my experiences.

And the lesson I learned from all this was: NEVER DATE.

2009-09-24T22:39:00.001-04:00

Dressing For A Date

Finally, after a half hour I have just finished fretting over what to wear tomorrow. Sometimes I wish we had uniforms at work just so I wouldn't have to worry about this kind of thing. Normally, it wouldn't be a big deal, but choosing an outfit particularly stresses me out when it has to be multi-functional, like my outfit for tomorrow has to be.

1. It has to involve a pair of jeans.
It's casual Friday at work and I'll be DAMNED if I don't take advantage of the one day a week we're allowed to wear denim.

2. It has to be work appropriate.
Just because it's casual Friday doesn't mean I can stroll in with jeans, a funky t-shirt, and a pair of Birkenstocks (though, that is the ultimate comfy outfit that popped into my head when I thought, "TGIF fackers!"). I'm also doing some presenting at a big meeting tomorrow in front of a very intimidating manager so... Alas, I have to wear a nice shirt and somewhat respectable shoes.

3. It has to be First Date Appropriate.
Yes, you heard/read me correctly. First Date. I have one of those tomorrow night. Don't ask - I'm not quite sure how it happened either, but the short version is this: I met a boy on the subway.

Now, this is significant for a few reasons:

1. I love meeting people whilst in transit.
Of course we all remember how I met J - on a public transit bus! - and how it remains one of my favourite, and now one of my most difficult, stories to tell. I've met a few good friends thanks to public transportation as well and they're all wonderful tales to relate. Secretly (or not-so-secretly, thanks to the wonders that are this blog), I've always wanted to meet my future hubby-to-be that way too. Come to think of it, that's how boy-wonder in Paris and I actually met last summer - while on the bus up to french camp in small-town Chicoutimi, Quebec. And speaking of boy-wonder...

2. I have a First Date while I've got ten days worth of dates waiting for me upon arrival in Paris in a week's time...?
Yes. Yes, I do. Again, I'm not sure how it all happened, but it was harmless enough and I've been honest with boy-wonder in letting him know that I did indeed give my number to a random dude I met on the subway home from work one day (our conversation started when he asked me what I thought of his hat - it was ridiculous). He knows, and he's only kind of cool with another guy calling me up to go out, but let's be honest - as crazy as I am to fall head-over-heels for someone who lives an ocean apart from me, I'm not going to be so crazy that I close all the doors that even creak open before me.

3. I can't remember the last time I went on a real date.
A "real date" being one that happens with me and someone else I've only briefly met (and he initiates by calling me). A "real date" is not hanging out with a friend and then drunkenly making out at the end of the night. So, by these standards, the last time I had a date was *thinking* ...with Mr. GQ/Asshole from *thinking* ...DECEMBER OF 2007. *calculating* Oh. My. Go-

4. I had a conversation about dates this morning.
While making breakfast in the office kitchen, Finance Director walks in, looks at what I'm stirring and says, "Ooh, oatmeal."

"With dates!" I replied. "Nature's candy!" (Breakfast makes me happy, apparently.)

"You like dates?" He asked.

"Of course. Both of the fruit and male variety."

2009-09-23T22:05:00.001-04:00

Home Is Where My Closet Is

My mother walked into my room one Saturday morning last winter. She went towards my closet, pulled open the double doors and took a deep sigh. I had only been home for a few weeks and was still getting used to her walking in and out of my room unannounced.

As she stared into the jumbled abyss that is my clothing collection, I wondered if she was going to make a comment about how I hadn't unpacked well or put my things away nicely. It doesn't matter how old you are, a mother's disapproval is never a welcome thing.

"I've always wondered when your closet would be full again," she said. "Now that your clothes are here, I know you're finally home."

2009-09-22T21:41:00.001-04:00

Geek Love

I found this the other day and my dorky little romantic heart just about melted - I haven't been able to stop listening to it since: it's a Mario Kart love song. And you really have to listen to it.

I wouldn't mind having a spaceman-wannabe either, because then he could sing to tell me that his heart would be a fireball.

2009-09-21T21:29:00.002-04:00

Tweet Like

Here are some thoughts I've had lately:

1.5 hours of hot yoga + Popeye's chicken and biscuits for lunch = like I never did any exercise at all + nausea.

A year and a half ago, when I was finishing up my last term at school, I would come home around 10:30 at night after my white-water kayaking lessons. Nowadays, my body pretty much shuts down at 10pm and I'm in bed soon thereafter.

There is no way I can control the habits of the 70+ people in my office. So my freaking out over paper towel usage and turning the tap off and loading the dishwasher and using less dish soap is highly unwanted. I need to relax.

I will never eat a jumbo hot dog from 7-11 covered in chili and cheese that comes from a machine EVER AGAIN.

As much as I'm excited for my upcoming trip overseas (did I mention that we booked a 20 Euro flight to Oslo, NORWAY for a weekend? "Gee, what are you doing for Thanksgiving weekend?" "Oh, nothing much... just going to spend it bumming around Oslo and enjoying some breakfast at this little B&B that he found. Y'know."), I'm frightfully nervous. Sure, every long-distance conversation we have re-affirms the fact that we're both really neat people who are really into each other, but I admit that deep down inside I'm fairly convinced that this whacked-out 'relationship' is doomed to fail.

Today I discovered that I don't like carrot juice. I reeeally don't like carrot juice. Blech.

2009-09-02T21:55:00.006-04:00

On The Flipside

On the other hand, I do need to give myself credit for doing *some* good things every now and then. My friend Bre once said that for every negative thing I say about myself, I should say three positive things. I can't possibly think of one, nevermind three, good habits for every bad one that I indulge in, but I should at least recognize that I'm not all bad all the time.

Since I've been home I've actually been engaging in regular physical activity - I walk the half hour home from the bus stop every day as opposed to calling for a ride like I used to. I go for a run three times a week, have been eating more fresh vegetables and am trying to watch my portions. I also stopped being consistently late for work, which is a good thing since I'm up for a review at the end of the month...

Don't get me wrong, I am definitely one to maintain a healthy indulgence in bad habits. I'm still not getting enough sleep, I often eat while standing up at the counter, sometimes I don't brush before bed, and I don't nearly vacuum enough. I can also be a terrible spender - my latest credit card bill, for example, is over $1500. The last time I spent so much was when I bought my MacBook and I ended up having to get a third job to make ends meet for a while. But this time it's because it includes my spending while I was overseas and my !!-->***next flight to Paris***<--!! is on it as well...

And speaking of good and bad habits, it appears that I have broken my pattern of meeting emotionally unavailable boys (good!). Now I'm just meeting ones that are *physically* unavailable because he lives over the ocean (bad!). But, despite the whereabouts of a particularly large pond (his words!), it seems that we're both crazy enough to try. (Crazy, but good!)

The next month (EXACTLY one month to go!) will be filled with all the good things I can muster up the energy to do because I need to EARN those fresh baguettes spread with nutella, all those nights filled with the delicious red wine that I miss dearly, all the days I'll spend not walking and running but indulging in other forms of physical activity I'm sure... All 'bad' things in one sense, but my goodness are they ever going to feel good.

2009-08-30T08:38:00.003-04:00

Really Bad Habits

Of all the reasons why I don't like living with my parents (crazy long commute to/from work, being far from the city where all the fun is, being stuck in the suburbs, having my parents around, etc.), I think the one that bothers me the most is that I don't like the habits I fall in/out of when I'm at home. For the five years that I lived on my own I did what most adults would do: I did my own laundry, I went grocery shopping, I cooked, I cleaned and generally took care of myself and all my affairs in a fairly responsible manner.

Take a snapshot of my life now and you'd see a lazy twenty-something who leaves her dirty laundry in a pile in her room for her mother to pick up. You'd see someone who's the last to eat a meal and leaves all her dirty dishes in the sink at the end of the night. She's also the same one that does no chores around the house, not even clean her own space and instead allows her mother to clean her washroom. You'd see someone who doesn't bother shopping for food, doesn't make any food and when faced with breakfast on Saturday mornings would sooner eat a Nestle ice cream cone than even make a bowl of cereal. PEOPLE. I am eating ICE CREAM for breakfast. There is something seriously wrong here. In short, I've become a lazy-ass of the worst variety.

So yesterday morning, after sleeping in, watching infomercials and eating junk food first thing in the morning (on the menu: a handful of cold dumplings straight outta the fridge, a handful of coconut-milk-coated-and-deep-fried peanuts, and aforementioned Nestle Drumstick - OMG - I still can't get over the ice cream...), I instantly perked up when I realized that I had a spare car to myself for the day and took off for the mall. I had a couple of errands that I needed to run - responsible things, like bringing my shoes in for repair, buying face wash, toothpaste, and I had a coupon to use at the Gap! I looked forward to doing independent adult stuff like that.

Three hours later, I left the mall without any face wash nor any toothpaste, having not used my coupon (I did at least manage to bring my shoes in for repair) and instead had two shopping bags filled with THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS' worth of new tops, cardigans, a dress and a pair of faux-snake skin heels. All those commercials are right - cars and credit cards really do give you a sense of freedom. Well, "freedom", or the idea that you can do whatever the hell you want in the most fiscally irresponsible of ways.

The only good thing that came of yesterday was going for a run after returning from the mall (perhaps I needed to cleanse myself of the guilt that comes with blowing that much money in one session at the mall), only to scarf down dinner afterwards (made by mum, of course) and then take the car and head downtown because I hate being stuck in the suburbs and the city is where all the fun is anyway.

These will all be arguments I use when trying to convince my family that me moving out (the sooner the better!) is a REALLY good idea.

2009-08-22T22:27:00.001-04:00

Jumping The Gun

My first day back at work wasn't unlike the first day of school.

"Oh welcome back! It's nice to see you again!"
"Oh wow, you're so tanned!"
"So how was your summer?!"
"Oh wow, your hair is so long! It grows so fast!"
...etc.

It was nice though; being able to walk around and chat with people gave me reasons to take breaks from everything else. Day 1 was a bit much, admittedly. I was faced with a totally bizarre feeling as I walked into an office after seven weeks away, my Inbox held about 200 emails awaiting me, I found out I had a conference call at 11am that morning, and I had to prep to help train a new staff member the next morning. Work was a tidal wave and I was a beach resort in Thailand.* So, it shouldn't really come as a surprise that on my first day back I was already thinking about filling in a vacation request form.

Plus, I hear Paris in October is really nice...

Oh, and re: anxieties two posts previous - I was wrong. Yahoo!

*I wasn't the first to say this.

2009-08-16T21:20:00.002-04:00

Milking It: A Sob Story

A frightening realization hit me as I stood at the counter at the bus station the other day. I had just asked for a one-way ticket out of the city and froze as I was about to say that it was a student fare because ...it wasn't. It hit me more at that moment than it ever has; not at my convocation, not when I got my grad photos, not even when I see my framed diploma on the wall in the family room every day - I am no longer a student. And I haven't been for more than a year. I am a full-fledged, 25 year old *GULP* adult. And with my new age bracket came new bus fares. More expensive bus fares.

Now, I should probably clarify that this wasn't the first time I had taken the inter-city bus since finishing school. I have many a time in the past, and (get this!) was still able to buy my tickets at the student rates because I had a completely valid, totally legit student card. Hey, it's not my fault that when I registered as a first year my university was actually issuing student cards that were valid for SIX YEARS. I probably should have been insulted that they assumed that I might be in school for that long (sure, I did five years, but SIX? is a long time), but didn't think anything of it at the time. So up until May of 2009 I was technically, according to this card, still a student at my university, so why not take advantage of the discount whenever I could? Except that this past Wednesday was no longer May 2009. Hence, the scene at the counter.

HOWEVER, if someone behind said counter assumes that I am a student based on the fact that I still look like a teenager when I don't have make-up on (and sometimes still do even when I'm wearing loads of it), and asks if I have student ID and says to me that they still consider it valid even if it expired in May because they assume we're getting it renewed in September, then THAT'S a totally different story. Right?

Even in France I was getting discounts on train tickets because 25 is still considered to be in the "Youth" bracket. My student days might be over, but I'm still living with at my parents' house (*SOB*), make a lot less than I should be, commute 4 hours everyday on public transit, and bring a packed lunch to work. The government may label me as an adult, but seriously? Does my lifestyle sound even remotely adult-ish to you? Certainly not adult-ish enough to be paying full fares to visit friends out of town! It might not be totally honest, but I'm milking this for as long as I can! ...until September when I don't have an excuse anymore. *SOB SOB*

PS: I'm back at the office tomorrow after six and a half weeks away. 1.5 weeks spent on tour, 4 weeks spent bumming around overseas, and 1 week spent at home/camping to recover from being on holiday. Suffice to say, I am SO not looking forward to work tomorrow. *SOB SOB SOB*

2009-08-12T12:09:00.000-04:00

Cupid Is A Friggin' Tease

It happens every time. I get home from a long sojourn overseas and I sit around at home, moping all alone, lamenting the fact that I'm not still over the sea (well, over the ocean, I guess).

This time it's especially hard because I've had to leave one of the most beautiful, romantic cities in the world, where a particularly wonderful boy lives, and come back HERE - where it's not romantic, where there are no fresh baguettes (at least not the way the French make them), no deliriously delicious red wines, and while there may be many a wonderful boy, none of them are quite like the one over THERE.

It's true and painfully obvious, I'm smitten to the core. Right down to my bones. You may have heard that I am most unfortunately and arduously attached. And while I was so smitten that I extended my stay from three days to ten, met his parent (dad was around and in town as well), went on a little trip out the French countryside together, and made plans to return in October, I've got to snap out of it. Because? HELLO he lives in Paris and I live HERE. He's also not as ...enthusiastic as I am about writing or calling or staying in touch (really? is he REALLY that busy?) so I'm going to have to stop obsessively checking my email and messages and definitely stop jumping every time my phone rings the long distance ring because SIGH it's probably not going to work out.

All I have to say about this is: I REALLY hope that I'm wrong.
And also: Wah. Waaaahhh.

2009-08-08T17:43:00.004-04:00

Family Fun Is Numba One

I'm safe, sound and at home. And while there are moments wherein I strongly wish that I was still over the sea, I have to admit that there are some fantastic things about being back with my family. See the following scenes from today:

1. At dim sum this morning, celebratory meal #1 for daddy's birthday, we were discussing the merits of rolling a peeled, boiled egg over bumps and bruises, and using soy sauce on burns. Apparently egg yolks have healing properties and don't ask about the soy sauce. I felt like I was in My Big, Fat, ~~Greek~~ Chinese Wedding.

2. This afternoon at the kitchen table, while waiting for celebratory meal #2, showing my parents on a globe where my latest travels had taken me and then discussing the orbits of the earth and the moon around the sun. My brother and I eventually pulled fruit out of the fridge to demonstrate said orbits - we had an orange as the sun and a cherry as the moon. It was awesome.

2009-08-05T06:08:00.003-04:00

Germany So Far...

What's cruel, because all of life's happinesses always seem to need some element of not-so-happy, of course, is that I have had to leave Paris and the fresh baguettes and delicious wines and the cute Canadian boy that lives there and come to Frankfurt, where my first souvenir is a bill for a 40 euro fine for not having a ticket with me on the train en route to meeting my friend.

[Luckily, the nice German boy I met on the platform pulled out his wallet and paid the fine for me because I didn't even have 40 euros to my name at that point. This was after he helped me figure out where I was going, carried my pack, offered to show me Frankfurt because I was alone, but before he got off at my stop with me to make sure I met my friend alright. I probably owe him my first-born.]

Lesson learned, wallet empty, missing Paris.

2009-07-31T06:33:00.003-04:00

Rain Date

Picnic lunch in front of the Tower got rained out the other day, though we did manage to find a little pavilion and lunch there with the saddest bunch of pigeons we'd ever seen. No bother though - we'll be back there tonight with the Tower all lit up (and sparkling) with some more fresh baguette, cheeses and the most delicious red wine that I've been hooked on since I got here. I can't tell y'all how much I'm looking forward to it.

It should probably also be mentioned that I've extended my stay in the city and have decidedly given up on going to Amsterdam, because that means leaving one of the most wonderful boys I have ever met.

It never ceases to surprise me when I actually get what I want. Dear Fates, THANK YOU.

2009-07-27T05:07:00.003-04:00

Down, Girl

I find myself in the City of Lights, and yes, I think I like it here. It has somewhat to do with the fact that yes, Paris is a pretty neat place, but most of it might be because of my host - a friend from French camp last summer - who, by the way, just happens to be much more good looking than I remember. He also happens to be really into sports and ergo, has the nicest body I have ever seen in real life.

I'm staying at his place, which is Paris-sized (read: very, very small), and that means that we're in pretty close quarters. Being this close to him as he dresses in the morning (and today he looked all professional because he's teaching) and knowing that I just can't reach out to touch is driving me CRAZY. I either need to start sleeping in the bathroom, move to a hostel or just allow my hormones to jump him.

We're having a picnic lunch today in the middle of the Champs de Mars - the park in front of the Eiffel Tower. I'm in one of the most romantic places in the world with an extremely good looking boy AND he happens to be fantastically friendly, kind, thoughtful AND smart - come on Fates, work with me here...

2009-07-23T16:19:00.002-04:00

North Of 60

Never thought I'd make it up here, but behold! I have crossed the 60th parallel. And it feels goood. Cold, but good. No worry about the weather though. I went here today, to the island of Unst. See that bit of land that juts out on the left in the north? It's so remote that it's HOT*.

*"HOT" as in HAWT. Like, if a boy told me he'd been north of 60 I'd have an insta-crush.

2009-07-13T22:02:00.002-04:00

Dreaming In Green

Scotland is a place where giants lay down to sleep and pull great big blankets of grass over their heads...

2009-07-06T23:05:00.002-04:00

27 Reasons To Visit Cyprus

So my trip across eastern Canada with 27 Europeans was a resounding success. I am down one immune system and two ankles, but am one Swarovski necklace and 27 new friends richer (all now Honorary Canadians, said I, via an informal ceremony on the ride to the airport - I made even the coolest kid on the bus cry). They're only a half hour away - albeit somewhere over the Atlantic - and I miss them already. Eleven days can really bond you to some people, who knew!

I may have been rusty at first, and feeling completely unsure as to whether or not they liked me, but now that we're at tour's end I can say with much confidence that the trip was brilliant and yes - they loved me to smithereens. I have yet to learn how to properly take a compliment though. (What is one really to say when a young man tells you that your trip changed his life?) As worried as I was (Will they like me? Am I really a good enough tour leader to have taken this trip? Yada yada...), I can be assured of my mad skillz. Ah, it's good to know that I've still got it.

I fly home in less than six hours (I just ordered a wake up call for 4:15am - UNGH), and I have less than twelve hours to get home, unpack, pack, and get myself back to the airport to fly to Scotland! I'm overseas for the next month and phew, I need a holiday. On the menu: all over Scotland, France and Germany. For dessert: Cyprus, one day.

2009-06-26T01:08:00.000-04:00

Oughta Be Outta Here

Every now and then I find my want for the open road so great that all I can do is suppress it, lest I compulsively buy a plane ticket and fly away from here. I restrain myself from looking at travel photos, click away from travel blogs and roll my eyes at Departures, that tv show that has most of the world itching from that travel bug bite. Me? I don't itch. I ache.

I wrote that a couple months ago when summer seemed too far away to make any dreams of travelling materialize, but here I sit with plans at least a little more concrete than they were. Now? I'm scrambling to get everything done before I take off. For the next two weeks I'll be everywhere between Niagara and Halifax. I've got 27 people from all over Europe coming for a "Canadian Heritage Tour" and by golly - I've got barely two weeks to show them 10 cities in 4 provinces.

Post-tour, I fly home and have less than a measly seven hours to get myself ready to fly again - but this time to rural, remote Scotland. I've got my ticket there booked, and my ticket home (from another city in another country) booked - everything in between? I'll figure it out as I go.

Six weeks of being on the move ought to soothe that ache of mine...

2009-06-09T22:40:00.004-04:00

*blink*

What happened to it being ONLY MAY?!

According to the plans that exist only in my head (because I have yet to book my handful of tickets), I leave town in two and a half weeks(!!), but before I do so I have:

1 more Sunday meeting to run
130+ tour kits to process
1 presentation to throw together
3 days of sustainability meetings to attend
24 business cards to print
1 giant end of season party to plan
1 giant end of season party to attend

I'd also like to get a new camera for my travels and oh yeah, DO MY TAXES. Shite, time moves faaast.

2009-05-27T22:36:00.000-04:00

A Secret Made

...is a secret kept.

It's thrilling to have something all to yourself, isn't it?

2009-05-21T22:35:00.007-04:00

Only May

This week I've experienced the two extremes of the work-day: The Day That Flew By and The Day That Dragged Ass. Today was one of those days that just felt like it was never going to end. I was exhausted and cranky by lunch and the end of the day saw me examining the bags under my eyes in the bathroom mirror. I felt like I was trying to wade through molasses in my cute, summery heels. But oh, oh Tuesday and Wednesday disappeared before my very eyes. One moment it was 10am and I was having my toast and marmite and the next it was just about 4pm and I marvelled at the fact that leaving the office on time was a reality.

It was funny, because my partner in crime felt it too, felt the day being whisked away. For some time now, she and I like to say the date very slowly while looking intensely at each other. "Woowww - today is MAY twenty-first... Maaaay... twenty-FIRST!" It feels like our season just started the other day and now... now we only have five more weeks left of it. People have said to me that it feels like I just started, when really, I started six months ago. My job at work usually has me thinking and planning for a week ahead, so to me, it's pretty much June. And June means the end of our peak travel season, which is the end of my busy times at work, which potentially means me not working in the office over the summer (because, let's face it, even though I'm awesome doesn't mean that there's much business sense in paying me to sit around and tell people to recycle better), and THAT means that I get to buy plane tickets and fly over oceans and greet people with hugs and oh-em-gee I should probably start thinking about dates and buying those plane tickets NOW.

*wheezes into a paper bag*

Sometimes, the speed at which life moves scares me.

This is, for the most part, how my brain works: quickly and unnecessarily, aka jumping to conclusions. I don't know that I'm not staying in the office over the summer; I'm just making that assumption based on some random pieces of information I put together from conversations I had with three separate people. And this is probably one of my greatest weaknesses: my affinity for making things up and masking it behind l'aire du sense. When really, it makes no sense at all to make myself worry for no reason. I don't know anything, but I hope lots.

All too often I lie in bed, awake at night, and muse to myself about more than what's going to happen at work the next day or what my plans for the weekend are. I tumble through the flurry of mind-bytes that wonder what my life has become, and what it will be - what am I doing, where am I going, and how am I going to get there? And if I don't feel like I belong in any of the situations that I currently find myself in, nor the ones I've made for myself, then surely it means that I must not belong anywhere. And if ultimately I am going nowhere, then what the heck is it that I am doing in the right here and now? Lying awake in bed has suddenly become one of the more terrifying activities I've ever engaged myself in.

Amidst all the fear and worry of a future that lies so uncertain before me, there is a gentle, timid hope that wants to grow stronger. As much as I can't fall asleep for all my pessimism, I'd like to think that it is mostly my optimism that keeps my body and spirits up at night. I may play scenes from my past that I desperately want to re-live, but I also create ones that I hope will come to meet true life soon. I calculate invisible money and purchase non-existent tickets to far-off places in the world. I can feel laughter and taste colour. In my mind I make art with skills I don't have, I hear music that hasn't been written, and make love to a man I don't know yet.

I take a deep breath and count my lucky stars. So glad that it is just only May.

2009-05-17T10:57:00.004-04:00

Mainstream Movie Minded

I'm notorious among friends for being particularly clueless when it comes to pop culture. I don't go to the movies often, and when I do, it's to the indie theatre to find obscure films like my darling favourites, The Motorcycle Diaries and Millions, or Amal and The Diving Bell and The Butterfly. The friends who really know me typically don't invite me out to see the big ticket movies at the local Googleplex theatres and only upon either high, high recommendations or a simple desire to hang out will I go to see something a little more mainstream. I admit that I never meant to be a movie snob, and I'm decidedly not - it's just that I don't seem to care for making the efforts to be caught up with Hollywood in any way. Despite the indie-movie persona I've managed to give myself, I do try to watch something every now and then so that I can at least keep up with some of the conversations in the lunch room at work.

In my defense, I will say this: At the theatre last night, I noticed something while watching the trailers before our feature that reminded me why I don't want to see any of the blockbusters: they all look the same. Take Terminator, Transformers and GI Joe, for instance, the three trailers I saw last night. Robots, killing, blowing things up. I could have been watching one trailer for one very long movie for all I knew - if there wasn't a break between them I wouldn't have been able to tell them apart. Now, I don't really have anything against robots and blowing things up - unless it harms or kills people, which I don't prefer (unless they're evil).

Take for example, Wall-E, which I saw because friends highly recommended it to me and knew that I would love it. Now, there's a movie all about robots and the bleak, bleak future that I ADORE. I only saw this a few weeks ago and AWW!! Robot love has never been cuter. Whenever I watch a human couple do the dance around a relationship, I'm more annoyed than anything at how our inherent ways never fail to bungle up a relationship. I think I'm quickly becoming a fan of animated, machinized romances.

And with a simple desire to hang out, I saw Star Trek last night, and I'm pleased as punch that I did. I've never been into science fiction, or movies about space and alien species in the future and I admit to only having watched half an episode of Star Trek during a class in high school (the one where they meet a race of beings that don't have genders - it was supposed to prove a point and incite discussion over ...something). Anyway, I found myself enjoying all two hours of it - mostly because I developed a Spock crush. Kirk is great and all, but I'd choose those dark, mysterious, un-feeling Vulcan eyes over the blonde-haired, blue-eyed bad-boy any day. Also, have you SEEN Zach Quinto when he's not Spock? He may have been cute in space, but HUBBA HUBBA. He's like young Spock meets young Pierce Brosnan who can really pull off a good pair of geeky glasses. I have a new reason to start watching Heroes.

So there we go - indie movie snob no more! A robot movie AND a space movie which had lots of things blowing up. I may have liked them for funny reasons, but hey, at least I'm keeping an open mind.

2009-05-11T21:11:00.003-04:00

Gone Too Far

Last night I tossed and turned until just about 2am before finally, finally, falling asleep. It's an awful feeling, knowing that you're exhausted and need a good night's sleep before a work-week, but having your mind and body duke it out right there under the covers. Maybe it was my late dinner of cold chicken wings and pizza - but though I've heard that food before bed can give you weird dreams, I've never heard that it can kick your brain into high gear in the middle of the night.

To be honest, I think it's work that's keeping me up at nights. I have a nasty habit of taking work home with me - and not only in the sense that I consistently have reports in my purse - but in the sense that I carry work around with me on my mind during the commute home, while chewing a late dinner, in the shower, and it seems to be especially true when lying in bed trying to fall asleep.

I had just come home from a Sunday meeting (lies - I had just come home from the bar we went to after the Sunday meeting) and I felt like I was trying to do twenty-one things at once getting people ready for their trips. Keeping track of who is missing what from which kit, who needs uniform pieces, and extra manuals, and questions about pick up points, and assigning phones... I feared that if I wasn't mentally organized I might forget to do everything Monday morning. So I laid there and thought about it for FOUR HOURS.

It's not like I didn't try to fall asleep. I tried different positions. I repeated one phrase over and over (which has worked well in the past) to no avail. I tried relaxing my muscles - nope, seems like they're all perma-tense now. I started a late-night conversation with ex-lovah boy turned BFF. Finally, either my thoughts all got organized, or my brain exhausted itself from running laps around my head and flopped over on one side. Either way, I fell asleep THANK THE LORDS.

Now, I don't know which is a worse way to tell that work has taken over not only my life, but all available mind-space as well: the fact that I lie awake until 2am thinking about work, or the fact that I dream about work when I've finally managed to fall asleep. It's in my subconscious, people, my SUBCONSCIOUS!

2009-05-07T22:23:00.005-04:00

Here's To One Decade At A Time

Sometime in my early twenties, I stumbled upon a little gem online and despite the increasing depth of the internets, Google still manages to find it for me - hidden in the comments section of a blog I still adore. Even if it failed to do so, I have the precise location of where I wrote this in my old journal accurately memorized. The author had written this message in a card he gave to his sister, who had just turned twenty years old, and she ended up cherishing it forever:

You have entered the most turbulent decade of your life. These are the years you'll experience your greatest loves, your greatest breakups, your greatest victories and your greatest hardships, all of which will lead you to the greatest decades of all: the ones in which you'll know yourself.

I shared it with my best friend, and then with my brother, on their birthdays. Though I found it after I had already entered my twenties, it made my heart swell as though it had just taken a deep breath of relief. It comforted me and gave me much hope. Hope for those greatest of loves and victories, and hope, too, for those lessons learned from the greatest of breakups and hardships. Most of all, I wanted that tiny flicker of light at the end of this long decade to get bigger - I wanted to know myself.

I'm not sure I feel much different at 25 than I did a few years ago. Different than 19 and 21? Of course. The amount of time that I spend drunk out of my mind has decreased dramatically. But being 23 and 24 feels like it was just... seven days ago. It's almost as if I'm disappointed that I don't know myself better at this point (ridiculous, I know), but I think I've proven myself to be the type who has terribly high expectations of ...well, everything.

When I was younger, I often imagined what I would be like when I grew up. And when I got into writing myself birthday letters, those daydreams and fantasies manifested themselves into full blown predictions and desires captured in my loopy scrawl and sealed into envelopes for years at a time. When I turned 16, I read a letter I wrote to myself at 12 years old that wanted future me to have a stereo and CDs and be "cool". Turning 23, I read a letter from 20 year old me which was emo as all heck... something about love and crying and goodness knows what. The one I liked best was the letter I wrote to myself on my 16th birthday for an older me at 20. I was cute and charming, almost funny. I spoke to myself like I was my own friend. And sometimes, I think I forget that: I am my own friend.

It seems that even the farthest reaches of my over-active imagination could only ever see me at 20, at the oldest - for I never wrote a letter to an older me after that. On the eve of my birthday last Friday, I kind of wished that I had a letter to look forward to in the morning. I suppose imagining 16 and 20 were kind of easy - 16 being smack dab in the middle of all that was to be dramatic teenagedom, and 20 being on that cusp of almost-adulthood. I'll admit that when I was 21 or so I saw myself at 27, but only because that was the age at which I always thought I'd be getting married. And being 27 sounded really cool to me because I was reading the blog of someone who was 27 at the time and gee, I just thought she was the neatest thing ever. But what of 25?

Right now it kind of feels like no-man's land, and fuzzy at best. I finished school just about a year ago now, but my ties there are still strong enough to make me feel connected (plus, I miss my life in my campus city SO DAMN MUCH) to the point where I say that I "just" finished school. I'm working a full-time 9 to 5 gig, but I don't really feel that it's "me" quite yet. I kind of know deep down that I won't be there forever and that I'm ultimately looking for something a little... else. I moved back home; and after living on my own for five years I have to admit that it feels funny, to say the least. See? Not a student, but not really an adult. Even if I were to have imagined myself at 25, my letter would have been so lofty that upon reading it I might have actually burst into tears. Perhaps I should be glad that I could never figure out what my mid-twenties were supposed to be like.

And I guess that's it right there - it's not really supposed to be anything, but it's everything all at the same time. It's love and loss. It's winning and not. It's good, it's bad. It's all-you-can-eat Japanese with your family one night, getting dolled up for a club only to be thrown out later for being obnoxiously over-intoxicated the next, and geeky, cheery goodness at Medieval Times the following. Looking back at my youth (gosh, that makes me sound old, but I didn't know how else to say it), I can confidently state that I did most of my "growing up" in my twenties - and will continue to do so.

So here's to the lack of birthday letter and to realizing that I had no idea what was to come. As much as I have an idea of who I'd like to be at this point in my life and who I am already, I've gotta say that at the very least, I'm pretty happy. And very grateful. Here's to those next decades, the ones in which I know myself, but in the meantime, here's to the rest of this decade now - whatever it may be.

Cheers.

2009-05-01T23:04:00.002-04:00

Mid-Twenty

happy birthday

Why thank you!

feel old yet?

I think I started feeling old a long time ago...

oh. well then... carry on :)

And never did I think that I could feel older! Alas. Hello, 25. It's nice to finally meet you.

2009-04-23T23:24:00.003-04:00

Waiting In 4/4 Time

So, Mr. Office Crush...

There's nothing like a good long-term-relationship break up to get someone to realize that you're going to be their rebound. And they wouldn't want to be the selfish douchebag who gives into it even though the flirting was so fun, and playful and harmless. Admittedly, I will miss the illicit after-work conversations and secret texting during-work conversations, but as much fun as it was to imagine hooking up with him, the last thing I need is to be on someone else's list of Cool Girls Who Were Fun For A Bit, But Ultimately Not What I'm Going For, Don't Hate Me, You Don't Hate Me Right? Barf. I've lived that scenario one too many times for my liking and no - there's absolutely no bitter eye-rolling going on over here.

Mr. Office Crush? Done.

Next, please.

2009-04-16T06:41:00.002-04:00

Foreshadowing

Warm, comfy and fast asleep in my cushy Quebecois hotel bed, I'm vaguely aware of the phone ringing. By the time my body managed to pick it up, the person on the other line has hung up. I'm annoyed because now I'm awake and I realized that it's just past 5:30am. Five minutes later the phone rings again, and when I get it, I hear the cheery voice of my boss on the other end. In the hour that follows, I get a glimpse of my life that is to be over the next two and a half months.

...a last minute deadhead to Hamilton we forgot about. A bus breakdown in the middle of the night for a first-year. A sick tour leader who called a half hour before she had to meet her group for departure. A flurry of phone calls for way-too-early in the morning. And now my partner is on a last minute trip to NYC which leaves our counterpart from Montreal with no dinner-mate upon her arrival and me to handle our last training session this Saturday - in front of my director.

With my training trips keeping me out of the office the last two weeks, I haven't been able to get a lot done and it doesn't look like that scenario is going to get a lot better any time soon. First Ottawa training, now Quebec training, and in a week and a half I'm back to Ottawa to do a job for someone else who isn't available to do it herself, then I'm back to Quebec to train people who couldn't make it to the first training trip... I think I'll have been in the office a total of eleven days over the course of a month.

[In writing this, I've been interrupted twice by more phone calls from my boss, to my partner, to my boss...]

I'm not sure if I realized what I was signing off to do when I took this job, but I guarantee that it's going to be some kind of adventure until the end of June...

2009-04-05T09:50:00.003-04:00

Sunday Morning, Without a Warning

It's Sunday morning, just before 10am, and I'm supposed to be wearing very little clothing, lying on my back with my eyes closed, breathing deeply and relaxing all the muscles in my body in a really hot room with twenty-some other people waiting for yoga class to start.

But instead, I'm dressed, (almost) packed and getting ready to go to the office. Because I need to work today - on a SUNDAY. I leave for my Ottawa training trip tomorrow morning (I have to be at the office at the unholy hour of 6:30am (at the latest!)) and since I'm a giant slackosaurus I'm trying to plan my trip at the last minute. I can't believe I'm here: planning the training trips, whereas a few years ago I was simply just going on them. Life moves quickly, doesn't it?

Like every other time I leave my house with a suitcase, I'm stressed. Stressed because once again, the days have proven that they just don't have enough hours in them to allow me to do everything I need to do. I had to cancel last minute on a friend today too, so instead of hanging out in one of the hippiest neighbourhoods in the city, I'm going to be at my desk on the 18th floor of an office building with no windows that open and a view of residential suburbia. Life, it's good to me.

This is all after yesterday, a SATURDAY, when I was at the office until 8pm. It didn't phase me when the lights in the building shut off because there was enough sunlight. When the sun was setting and everything was bathed in either shadow or an eerie golden orange, that's when I realized I had probably crossed the line between that work-life balance. I probably would have stayed longer had my partner not been wearing her coat at the desk beside me, waiting for me because she was being nice.

So now, Sunday morning, I'm going to take my bag and my binder and go ...to not do yoga.

2009-03-29T20:11:00.002-04:00

I Am So Tired Of

Working on Saturdays.

My flat feet.

Losing 3.5 hours in transit every work day.

Being celibate (and lacking all sorts of physical affection).

My short hair.

Business casual wear at the office. (I miss my jeans.)

My dad's boyfriend-themed talks.

Pantyhose.

Being the girl guys talk to after they just got out of a long term relationship.

2009-03-29T13:26:00.006-04:00

Good, And Not So Good

The office crush is crushing back, which is both a good thing and a not so good thing. Good, for obvious reasons I should think - unrequited crushing is cool, but when it's reciprocated it's more exciting! - and I do look forward to the messages and late night conversations... But it's not so good for very important reasons. I don't particularly like drama, despite the fact that I often find myself wrapped up in it. And by engaging in anything with Office Guy I am most surely putting myself in a potentially awkward situation.

Though the office is large and filled with 60-some people, we do tend to see and/or have lunch together almost every day. He's also part of the I.T. Thursday night gang and I in no way want to jeopardize my fun-loving relationships with the rest of the I.T. guys by messing around with one of their clan. And when he comes over to my desk to say hello or whatnot, I'm never quite sure what kinds of conversations to have with him because my partner is sitting RIGHT THERE and I most definitely do not want to give her, or anyone else within earshot, any ideas as to the fact that he and I talk at nights, nevermind what it is that we talk about.

Good, I suppose, because this could be fun. The office tension, the secret conversations, the possibility of an emotionless spring fling, the scandal! But not so good because I don't actually think we're compatible and he called me "cute". Twice. There were exclamation marks used, and enthusiasm is never a bad thing, but COME ON - what almost 25-year old wants to be called "cute"?

2009-03-26T22:38:00.001-04:00

Bygones

When I woke up the next morning, it had healed. Like it was never there at all.

2009-03-24T20:52:00.000-04:00

Paper Cuts

I was sealing an envelope the old school way today (ie: by licking it) and gave myself the teeniest, tiniest little papercut on my lip. Right where the lip meets the face. It stings to smile.

2009-03-18T22:25:00.003-04:00

Winding Up And Then Down

Just when I thought things were going to calm down a bit, my life picked up around me and started swirling madly out of control. Looking back at a mere two weeks ago, I can't believe that I actually had the time to sit down and write a post every night for four days in a row - and write fairly regularly before and after that too. Unbelievable. I even had the time to go out after work and get a haircut! These days, I'm doing all that I can to keep up with my growing responsibilities and ever looming deadlines at work rather than worry about grooming myself (the bob, as you can imagine, has most definitely lost it's bob-y and feathery bang quality). I also expect to be spending lunches at my desk from now until the end of June in addition to working an extra half hour every evening. No joke.

Mildly exciting news to report:
- One of my BFFL (Best Friends For Life) called me from Scotland the other day!
- She was calling to congratulate me on a new position that I got at work!!
- ...I'M THE NEW SUSTAINABILITY COORDINATOR FOR MY OFFICE!!! YAAAHHHHH!!!!
- I had my first conference call (an hour and a half!) and that was pretty exciting.
- Training my new team (! I have a team !) on Saturdays is proving to be both wonderful and extremely taxing. I want to say that I'm looking forward to the end of training, but that just means the beginning of travel season, which means that I'll be living out of other cities and my desk at the office.
- I think that I have officially developed an office crush. He's not really my type at all I don't think (whatever that may be), but fairly good looking. He'll do for now.
- Spring celebrations this weekend came in the form of hip hop karaoke with Maestro Fresh Wes, a chocolate party and world food book launch! Followed by hippie and market goodness. And a parking ticket (damn!).
- And uh, remind me to tell you about eHarmony.

Every time a mildly exciting thing happens, I immediately think about how to spin it into a fabulous sounding story for y'all, but to be honest, most nights I'd rather spend doing anything but staring at a computer screen trying to think coherently, nevermind creatively. I'll take jazz radio and an early bedtime, thanks.

PS: Since I'm starting to sound like an oldie, I might as well start drawing attention to the fact that I officially hit my "mid-twenties" mark in five and a half weeks! I wonder what it takes to drop ten pounds in five weeks?

2009-03-15T23:28:00.003-04:00

After All Better Now

After a taxing first day of training at the office on Saturday (up at 7am, out the door at 7:30, at the office before 9am, left at 5pm... and colleagues that make me feel exhausted) the only things I wanted were yoga, a t-shirt and jeans, a good friend, and wings and beer.

After watching Mamma Mia (Meryl Streep version) the only thing that could wash that bad taste out of my mouth was a midnight viewing of 50 First Dates.

After my father sitting down to have a talk with me as to why I wasn't working harder at finding a boyfriend, the only thing I could bring myself to do (except for speeding myself to Waterloo) was lay down and watch the entire Jon & Kate + 8 marathon with a variety of comfort foods.

2009-03-13T21:52:00.004-04:00

Office Updates

In addition to "chic", "trendy" and "cute", I also got other comments on my hair; like "traditional" and "Asian." I don't get it either. I think he was trying to call me a middle-aged Chinese woman. Someone also said to me, "Wow, that haircut makes you look a lot older. It's like you aged five years overnight."

O_o

That remark also came from the guy who once walked behind my desk, looked down to see what I was working on and suddenly said, "Wow, you have really stubby fingers."

He's a real gem, ain't he?

---

I officially bid goodbye to my social life last weekend (thank goodness it was a good one!) because tomorrow marks the first of five Saturdays that I spend at the office. I'm training our new team of Tour Leaders so that means I work six days a week starting now until mid-April. Despite the fact that yes, I'm working on a weekend, I really am rather excited. My partner in crime and I have been screening applications and doing interviews since the new year started and FINALLY, we are done hiring. I'm excited to have our new team all in one place tomorrow and honestly, I'm excited to teach them about this job, something that I've loved doing for years. The opportunity to train the new team is one of the main reasons I took this new position in the first place, so perhaps that might explain why I stayed at the office until 7pm tonight perfecting my session, why I brought things home with me to finish up, and why I'll be leaving the house tomorrow at 7:30am so I can get there early enough to set up.

I will sorely miss Saturday morning yoga though, but I will look forward to Sunday morning yoga instead.

---

During an office-wide meeting today, I had to restrain myself from leaping out of my chair and jumping onto the board room table, proclaiming, "I WANT TO BE THE GREEN CHAMPION IN THIS OFFICE!! I WANT TO TEACH PEOPLE ABOUT REUSING AND WASTING LESS AND RECYCLING AND COMPOSTIIING!! NO ONE IS MORE PERFECT FOR THAT POSITION THAN MEEE!!!" A new position is starting up and I want it. Can you tell?

---

Last night, like other Thursday nights, I hung out with the guys in the IT department, who are quickly becoming some of my favourite people to spend time with. We hang out, play Rock Band, get high, eat pizza/home-made pulled pork/dirty Chinese, drink beer, watch The Office and get home late so that I'm always tired the next day. I started going in the spirit of making friends and I'm super glad I did. The IT guys are, at the same time, the geekiest, the coolest, and the bestest.

I got super high last night because, for once, I didn't have a car so I wasn't driving home. But I ended up getting a little incoherent and taking public transit home alone in that state made for an interesting experience. I ended up having a text conversation with the guy who drove me to the subway station until 12:30am about things that go BZzzz...

---

Off to finish making employment packages for my new team and go over my presentation!

2009-03-11T19:35:00.009-04:00

Indulge Me

The hair! The hair! It was a resounding success!

Much to my surprise and relief, people at work really liked the new haircut. Someone even called it "chic" - to my utter disbelief, as I'm sure you can imagine. And then someone told me I looked like a Japanese doll and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Funny, this Japanese ...thing. I've been called a Japanese doll before (by whom, or why, I can't remember), I also had the nickname Geisha for a few years, and when I was in Spain and North Africa, people kept calling me "Japonais". Maybe in a past life...?

You know what I haven't done in a while? Narcissistically put up photos of myself! I suppose now is the time, given the new do and my growing (slooowly growing) fondness for it. You see where I was coming from with the melon helmet, right?

Yes, I realize I might have gone overboard with the bathroom glamour shots. This is only because this look is only one day post-stylist. I washed it tonight and goodness knows I'll never, ever get my hair to look like this - perfectly bob-y and bangs so feathery - ever, ever again.

2009-03-10T23:24:00.009-04:00

Bob-y Bang Bang

Today I was feeling spontaneous so I called a salon that I'm starting to frequent and decided to go in for a haircut. I've been craving one for a while because what I had before was really starting to shag out. And then I was feeling adventurous and decided to tell my stylist to go for the "bob" look with bangs and now I'm a girl who just cut off all her hair and really wishes that she hadn't. I should really think my spontaneity through next time.

And I can't even blame the stylist because a) she's lovely, and b) I totally told her to do it. When I said, "Just even it out so it's kind of bob-y," I had no idea how short the back was. When she started taking inches off the front I realized I had forgotten that I had one of those slanty haircuts where it looks longer in the front and I immediately wished I could go back on the whole even-ing out thing because it needed to match the length in the back. But... I couldn't. So I sucked it up and just thought of it as 'cute'. I'm still trying to convince myself (especially after seeing the horrified looks on my family's faces).

If I was rail thin and/or a superstar with a team of styling professionals, I might be able to pull this off. But I'm not and I don't, so here I am trying to figure out what outfit and hair products will compliment and/or HIDE this helmet-head look/thing I've got going on for tomorrow at work. I really don't feel like responding to the "Oh! You got your hair cut!" conversations.

My inspiration was Katie Holmes with short hair like here and here , and I kiiind of came out of it looking like that, but less good. Oh who am I trying to kid - I look more like this, but less good:

2009-03-09T22:29:00.003-04:00

Singled Out

Friday: A brief conversation with a boy whom I like(d?), and with whom a relationship will most likely/definitely never be possible nor compatible, about my current status as single. "Are you seeing anyone?" No. "Are you going on dates?" Not... really. It's been a while since anyone asked and I was taken aback by the fact that someone cared. Or maybe cared just enough to ask to see if there was any chance in the near future that I would be leaving him alone. Depending on their bent, people's curiosity about me being single can be flattering (i.e.: "I can't believe you don't have a boyfriend! You're fabulous!" - to which I respond, "What, fabulous people have to have significant others? I'm fabulous alone, thanks.") - and sometimes it just makes me uneasy (i.e.: see above example with Boy wherein I didn't really know what to say, other than tell an awkward story and then finish it off with a shrug).

Saturday: Dinner with a dear friend who openly expressed to me that he's worried about me. WORRIED about me and my overly romantic ideals. Two days later and I still don't really know what to say about that. I know I should never settle, but has it gotten to the point where I've dreamed up someone who totally doesn't exist? Clearly, the answer is a resounding YES, but I still think a girl's got to have her standards. I'm not being terribly unrealistic, I don't think. I mean, I'm sure there's an intelligent, fun, geeky artist-musician-writer-photographer out there who wants to take me camping and eat beans out of a can one weekend and to the opera with champagne and strawberries the next.

Sunday: Conversations circling around relationships permeated the day. I ask about my guy friends, their gfs, their dating life. I lament my own. I assert myself with a fellow Single and say, "We choose to be single!" Well duh - I could be dating any schmo who's ever tried to pick me up, but clearly, I'm not. And then my bestfriend and I lie in bed and watch a handful of Sex and the City episodes, which are allll about men, and sex, and relationships and yada yada. I fell asleep last night with visions of fictional Carrie's fictional sex columns in the fictional New York newspaper and how they relate to my own life.

My whole weekend, taken over by the idea of my Singlehood or lack of being in a Relationship. It's become that big of a deal. So! In the spirit of trying something new, and for want of Oh, Why Not? I think I've decided to see what eHarmony is like. Those commercials on tv have been catching my eye for a while now (have you met Tanyalee and Joshua?), and because it's also scaring my friends a little, I think I may try this thing out. It's just another avenue after all. It could be fun, it could be awful, but I'll never know until I see for myself (and seriously peeps, I'm just SEEING, I'm not really DOING anything real yet). So, for now:

Hello. I'm a woman. Seeking a man.

2009-03-08T22:14:00.003-04:00

Give Me Something To Talk About

Oog. Feeling worn out.

The weekend was well marinated in alcohol - rich red wines on Friday night and a good amount of Jager on Saturday. Got myself lots of excercise - yoga and then dancing for hours in four and a half inch heels.

Back to the grind tomorrow, after what seemed to be a long weekend because of all the things I did, people I saw...

I'm going to indulge in a home baked croissant and some Sex & the City before bed. Kind of wish there was more booze and physical activity for me to engage in tonight. I suppose pastries and Sarah Jessica Parker will have to do.

2009-03-04T23:12:00.005-05:00

The Best Things In Life

- hot yoga
- "Love Generation" by Bob Sinclair
- my "Thug Love" playlist
- and this semi-recent happening:

It was Saturday evening. I blew up from the subway, energized and excited for a night out with some new friends from work. I got up onto ground level, trying to figure where Bloor Street was so I could orient myself. I bopped along to whatever tune my iPod had playing and was about to walk out a set of doors when I decided to stop and ask the two guys standing there for some directions.

"Excuse me, do you guys know where Bloor Street is? I'm not really from around here."

"Oh yeah, it's just over that way." I started to take a step in the direction of their pointing fingers saying, "Awesome, thanks!" when one of them pulled me back by the shoulder.

"Whoa, whoa. You can't go out there."

I was puzzled. "What? Why not?"

"Don't you see that?"

"See what?" I was almost vaguely creeped out when I turned and saw what they were talking about. Parked right in front of the set of doors to the subway station was a taxi cab. On fire.

I gasped. "Holy crap! I didn't even notice that!"

"Whaaat?!" The two of them burst out laughing and nearly fell to the floor. I suppose it was fairly funny that, despite the crowd that had formed, the smell of smoke and burning oils and rubbers, I didn't notice a flaming vehicle that was in my way. These guys thought it was hilarious.

"Are you serious?! Did you really not see that?!"

"Well, no... I was just looking for Bloor Street!" More laughter ensued. I paused. "Well, what am I supposed to do now? I have to go that way - I'm going to be late!"

"You can still go. You just have to avoid the burning car that might explode." And more laughter...

"Great - that convinced me." I putzed back and forth. I looked at them. "Seriously, do you think I can go? It won't blow up, will it?"

"Nah, you can make it. It'll only take a couple seconds to run past it."

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you sure?" I took a breath and got ready to make a run for it. I surveyed the scene. The flames were getting bigger. And it was burning where I thought the explode-y type things were to be found. The crowd was growing, gathering farther away from it. I stepped back. "No, no way! It's totally going to blow up. I can't go past that thing!"

"Oh you totally can! Just run, really fast." This coming from the guys who tried to stop me from going out there at all - and now they were supporting me in it. I'm sure I looked skeptical and apprehensive.

"...maybe I should just stay for a bit. I kind of want to watch it explode."

"Come on," one of them said. "I'll go with you."

Before the word "What?" had left my mouth, he grabbed my hand and we ran for it.

Screaming with laughter, we ran through the smoke, right past the taxi cab on fire, nearly crashed into an onlooker taking a photo, through the crowd, and made it to the other side. We must have looked like lunatics.

Laughing and filled with glee, we high-fived each other and let out a couple celebratory cheers and whoops of joy. It was hilarious - I hadn't had that much spontaneous fun in a long while. When I had caught my breath I smiled, thanked him, and bid him good luck in getting through the cloud of smoke to find his buddy. He wished me luck in finding Bloor Street. And with that, we turned and went our ways.

My friends were incredulous when I told them the story; not at the odd situation, but at the fact that I didn't make a move. Maybe I should have asked him where he was going that night, and why the 12-pack of beers in his other hand. Maybe I should have told him where I was going to be. I didn't ask for his name or his number, and I didn't offer my own. My friends made me think that I should have, but really, I didn't even think of it at the time. I was having too much fun. Ultimately, I'm content with the fact that I didn't do anything.

I suppose I felt that sometimes, these little moments just need to be left as they are. Pockets of time where everything feels suspended for a moment and the only things that exist are a fiery blur rushing past you, the feeling of someone's hand clutched tightly in yours, the sound of wild laughter.

To whoever you are, Thanks. You made my night. And then some.

2009-03-01T21:10:00.002-05:00

A Taste Of My Own Medicine

I can't stand working when it's the weekend, and yet I've been bringing home stacks and stacks of applications to screen every night. And since I've been so busy at the office with interviews, a little project that I thought was done when I handed it to my manager last week also followed me home on Friday evening. Well, it's also home with me because I messed up. How fabulous - my first big, detailed oriented task and I mess it up. Way to embarrass myself not only to my manager, but also to the Director of IT who just recently added me to LinkedIn...?

Anyway, it's Sunday night at 9pm and I'm scrambling to get this work done for tomorrow morning. This is what I get for spending my whole weekend burning through Season 3 of Project Runway. (I even skipped yoga - both days!) I may or may not have also fallen asleep this afternoon after watching all the special features on the DVD... For the record, I totally liked Season 2 better.

...and I really wish I was watching it right now as opposed to being stressed out about figuring out our phone needs for the upcoming travel season. I nearly went blind scrutinizing sales reports and counting days the first time around. If only I wasn't an idiot and hadn't forgotten a very obvious detail (two tour leaders need two phones, not one DUH), I wouldn't be here right now. Oy, I really should have gotten this done on Saturday. Oh wait - I couldn't have(!) because I was busy buying my parents a car(!) since I wrecked theirs. I now know what it's like to be really, really pressed for money and writing a cheque for thousands upon thousands of dollars? is a weird feeling.

2009-02-25T20:58:00.003-05:00

Plans

It has been decided. Tonight, instead of making progress with work or researching what to do with RRSPs, I am going to sit in bed and watch Project Runway until I pass out.

2009-02-23T22:12:00.004-05:00

Instructions Not Included

Every now and then I like to try something new in my life just because I get antsy for a change, sometimes it can make me feel grown up, and sometimes it's just fun to switch things up. Plus, it feels good to be able to say, "Oh yeah, I've tried that before and it SO DOES NOT WORK FOR ME."

Last August, when I was living back in the Loo for a few weeks for work training, my relatives from Boston came to visit (my parents' place). I wasn't around to host, hang out or even receive a little gift they usually bring with them. My aunt, of course, does all the shopping and in the past she'd buy me these awful outfits I'd only wear as pjs to bed, or tacky pj sets that I swore I'd never wear period. Now that I'm a bit older, she seems to have either wisened up or is trying all sorts of random things until she strikes gold. Enter the gift of August 2009: the electric toothbrush.

I, at 24 years old, have never used an electric toothbrush. To me, they were "fancy" aka "expensive" and growing up, I never had anything much more than simply what I needed. So, when all this elaborate dental care stuff came out I didn't bother with any of it (I still only sort of know what a water pick is) thinking that I would do just fine with my old school ways. But I wasn't adverse to trying something new and different, and I have to admit that I was pretty excited to have an electric toothbrush because sometimes I'm just too much of a scrooge to go out and buy something like that for myself. So, there I am, on that fateful day that it is time to replace my ratty, manual toothbrush and I happily cut through the plastic packaging that held the future to my improved oral hygiene.

To start, I had trouble opening the package. It was that hard plastic that usually comes with electronic goods and requires garden shears to cut through. That stuff can break skin if you're not careful. You all know the kind I'm talking about. When I finally got the brush out, I couldn't really figure out how to turn it on. I pressed around for a second or two and behold! it buzzes! So on goes the dab of toothpaste and in my mouth goes the dual-action spinning head and zzzZZZZzzZZZzzzZZ goes my teeth. And my gums. And lips. And the rest of my face until I realized, "Holy crap, this thing is INTENSE!" I tried to hold on for the required two minutes, but it got to the point where my hand was getting uncomfortable from the buzzing, my mouth was going numb and I could swear I was getting a headache from all the vibrating.

And here arose a problem: I couldn't figure out how to turn the damn thing off. There wasn't a switch of any sort and I tried pressing the button-type nub that turned it on in the first place, but that didn't work. I fumbled in the shards of plastic packaging in search of a mini-instruction manual. I read the piece of cardboard that came with it. Nothing. I squeezed, I twisted, and all the while the head is still doing its dual-action thing and foamy toothpaste is just spraying everywhere. After struggling with the damn brush for what seemed like way-too-long-to-turn-off-a-toothbrush, I finally press in the right spot and it stops. THANK GOD. Honestly, who needs to hide buttons underneath so much padding?

Paired with an old experience with a fuel cap lid* and a recent experience at a new gas station** this does not bode well for me trying to buy an RSP before the end of the week. I need to research and start a Retirement Savings Plan? Excuse me, didn't I just tell you that I needed instructions on 1. how to open my fuel cap lid 2. how to turn on a gas pump and 3. how to turn off a TOOTHBRUSH? ...Plan for my RETIREMENT? As if.

* I went to get gas with #2 of my 3 rental cars during my recruitment position with my alma mater and sat at the pump for 20 minutes trying to figure out how to pop open the lid so I could open the fuel cap to put gas in it. There was no lever under the driver's seat, there was no button anywhere, there was not even a little space for you to put your finger to manually open the lid. I even tried prying my nails in between the lid and the body of the car to wrench it open. No luck (and ouch). All my searching was futile until I grabbed the owner's manual and sat down to read the damn thing. I found the section on gas. Want to open the fuel lid? You press on the left side of the lid and the right side will pop open. It's that simple. No lever nor button inside, you press on the left side. Took me 20 minutes, folks.

**I'm driving home after a night out in the Loo, which is at least an hour and fifteen minutes away from home, if I speed. I was low on gas leaving the city, but I figured that maybe I could stretch it and make it home anyway. I couldn't. So I had to pull off the highway into suburbia somewhere and find a gas station, preferably the one I normally use so I can collect Air Miles. I didn't want to stray too far away from my route, so I stop at the first one I see, an old-school Canadian Tire. I get out of the car and do the gas pumping thing, only to realize that squeezing the handle did not produce any gas. I kept squeezing. I took out the pump and repositioned it. Nothing. Oh god - don't tell me I pulled up to a closed gas station (it was early Sunday morning and no one was around), but nope. The little booth definitely had a gas station guy inside who I'm sure was watching me with much curiosity at this point. I checked for buttons. The thing didn't even have a credit card swipe, so what were the chances of it having fancy buttons? Finally, I sucked up my pride and went into the attendant's booth. A less than chipper, angsty-looking teenager looked at me from behind the small counter. He looked like the type to readily defend his booth in the case of a hold-up.

"Uh - morning. I'm having a little trouble out there. I can't seem to... to get the gas pumping. Am I doing something wrong? Like, is there an ON button or something?" His brow wrinkled ever so slightly. "You're kidding me, right?" I realized what I must have looked like: it was super early Sunday morning and here I was, still dolled up up from the night before in my red coat and pointy-toed, lace-up hooker-witch boots. My hair and make up was that kind that says, This looked good about twelve hours ago before I passed out from overindulging in alcohol and tex-mex. I smiled meekly. "Uh, unfortunately, I'm actually not... not kidding."

*pause*

"Really, seriously, I can't turn on the pump. I'm squeezing the handle and nothing is coming out and I'm sorry, but I'm used to going to Shell stations because I collect Air Miles and I've never been to a Canadian Tire station before..." The ranting, pleading look in my eyes must have been pathetic, but at least it was enough to induce some form of mild pity. "There's a lever beside the pump, not a button. To turn it on, you push the lever down."

"Oh. Okay. T-thanks." I turned on my hooker heels and bolted out of there. He was right. Right beside the place where I grabbed the pump from in the first place was a big lever that had a giant arrow pointing in the ON direction. I'm such an idiot.

Suffice to say, I have never pumped gas so quickly in my life and when I had to go back inside to pay, I endured his chuckles with whatever grace I had left and flew out of there like a bat outta hell.

2009-02-17T00:13:00.006-05:00

Wonders Of Another World -OR- More Proof That I'm A Giant Snob

I have just had the luxury of a long weekend, wherein I did little other than eat and do hot yoga, and STILL, I am not ready to go back to work tomorrow. I think this says something about the amount of love I have for my job. Or maybe I just like food and stretching in hot rooms A LOT.

A big part of my job one month ago was recruitment, which has now become screening applications, reading resumes and interviewing. Every other night I come home with a stack of papers about how wonderful John is or how experienced Kate is (can you tell I was grading applications in front of the tv tonight?) and why I should hire them. Overall, it has been an interesting exercise for me because I'm learning what makes a good cover letter, what makes a great one, and how obvious it is to an employer when it's pulled from an online template. Same goes for resumes. And it's very apparent that people, namely those fresh in university, have no idea what they're doing when it comes to resumes (i.e.: SIX pages is entirely UNNECESSARY). I have been blessed with two years' work experience at my university Career Services centre and gladly, feel very comfortable with mine (though, as with everything else in life - and to keep myself as humble as possible - I'm sure it could use some polishing).

My co-coordinator aka partner in crime and I said that we should have made a Quote Wall with all the ridiculous and unbelievable things that we've read so far, but we're too nice (and busy) to do that. Instead, I will gently mock anonymous applicants here on my personal blog and hopefully offer some advice in the process.

The last question on our application asks applicants where they would travel to if they could go anywhere in the world (overdone, I know), and it seems that there's quite a number of people who seem to want to go to well, utopia, i.e.: a place that doesn't exist at all.

[Let me explain.

I studied Classical History and Latin all throughout high school and, as evidenced here, I came out of my teens with a list of Favourite Derivatives - not colours, stores, or bands, but DERIVATIVES - I blame my love for language and etymology. One of my favourites is the word "utopia" which derives from two Greek words: ou, which is a negation or means "no" and topos, meaning "place" - which ultimately gives "utopia" the meaning of "no place" or "nowhere" and that's really kind of neat, don't you think?

And speaking of places that are nowhere at all...]

Anyone ever heard of Stone Hedge? Perhaps a very important historical rock garden I'm not aware of? A famous site from another era of prehistory? What about the Sixteenth Chapel? Are there fifteen other ones that I've missed during my travels? Michelangelo nearly went blind from painting that ceiling and I can only imagine him rolling over in his grave when he hears that this generation of youth doesn't even know the proper name of one of the most widely-known and holiest sites of the Catholic world. I can't even fathom the other places in the world that I will discover solely by reading these applications....

Then there's one guy who talks of climbing the heights to see Macchu Picchu, which was built by The Aztecs. NOTE: The Aztecs, though an amazing civilization, did not build Macchu Picchu. The Incas did. Wrong country, buddy.

I don't mean to be mean, but this stuff is just too precious. And really, these things were just the punchline to otherwise well written pieces of rhetoric on why these people are just so cultured and interested in travelling and learning the history of the world... apparently, there is much to be learned.

Other things to note:
- If you do not know what a word means on an application, LOOK IT UP. Do not assume you know what "bondable" means when you clearly don't, because haphazardly checking the NO box automatically tells us that you have committed a criminal offence and WE WILL NOT HIRE YOU.
- "Detriment" is an adjective that describes a disadvantage, NOT something that describes why your responsibility and punctuality should make you a good tour leader.
- You "incur" something undesirable like debt, not leadership experience.
- Honestly, people (especially potential employers) notice typos, okay? There may not be an Appropriate Use of Vocabulary function nor a Grammar Guide that comes with your word processing software, but for the love of- use your spell-checker, please! There's nothing like a solid typo that makes us want to DQ a potentially good application.

Like previously mentioned: I am such a snob. I need help.

2009-02-14T15:42:00.000-05:00

Get A Heart On

Happy Valentine's Day everyone. You'll be glad to know that I'm not celebrating the occasion by hanging myself from the shower rod.

Though, Savage Garden's Truly Madly Deeply just came on the radio (dedicated to Andrew from Michelle because SHE LOVES HIM and off they go to Cuba for a week) and I became distinctly aware of the fact that I WILL NEVER FIND SOMEONE. Salt in my wound: the DJ just informed us all that K-Ci & JoJo's classic love song is coming up because they just HAVE TO play it on a day like this. Gag me. Or maybe just gag all those people who can't seem to stop spreading their sap-crap feelings. And there I was, telling my friends that I was going to be decidedly less bitter and stabby this Valentine's Day.... The disturbing thing is that I think I actually think I AM toning it down this year.

Oddly enough, I've got plans tonight - double the plans, too, with double the boys. A double date(!) if you will. Drinks and apps with Rich, the Friend from The Outing With A Friend aka Friend-Date Turned Date-Date? - let's hope it's less awkward this time around. And then I'm off to the symphony (Radu Lupu is playing Beethoven!) with Pratik! Upon returning home, there is the possibility of a Skype-date with my ex-lovah, just because we can.

I leave you with this little gem: A Screaming Banshee Goes On A Date, courtesy of our favourite holiday-maker, Hallmark.

2009-02-11T22:26:00.002-05:00

I Wish Someone Had Written This About Me

From One Sentence:

Tom

From the moment her arms wrapped around my chest and her head found its place against my shoulder, I knew beyond a doubt that I would never think of five feet as too short ever again.

2009-02-01T00:09:00.002-05:00

Sacred Space
Or: "There's Gnome Place Like Home" (the title to a story we made up one night before we fell asleep)

Not unlike what others do in awkward situations, we found ourselves talking about the weather. "I remember last spring being very cold," he said. "That's funny," I said. "I remember last spring being very warm."

When I woke on Tuesday morning I carried on in the apartment like I had so many times before. Despite my absence and the passing of so many months, I still found my things scattered about like I belonged there. My glasses were on the window sill by his keys, my hat and mitts there too. My bag sat where the hallway met the living room, my phone on the table, my clothes in a pile on the floor. I saw evidence of my previous presence: the Dali postcard I got him still stuck to coffee table, the empty Christening wine bottle by the sink, and I wondered if the pocket watch I gave him still hung from his bed post. Even when I arrived, I immediately went to sit on the rug and not the couch, and knew to let it mellow in the toilet. When he gathered his things in the morning and mumbled aloud, "Now where is my wallet?" I told him it was on the side table beside the hookah, just because I knew.

I remember the first time I saw the place. As we walked towards it, I kept guessing whether it was this, that, or the other house over there and when we finally approached it, I remember thinking that it was better than any of the houses that I had guessed en route. He was so excited. And I shared his infectious joy as I breathed in the long hallway, full of light. I swooned over the big window and the size of the rooms. I smiled in the tiny kitchen. We made plans in the living room; where the couch would go, how the rug could lie in the corner with cushions, how there'd be no t.v. to contend with. We talked about paint colours. The apartment was in no way mine, but I felt like I became a part of it that very first day. We thought about christening it right then and there, but we decided against it (only to do it a week after, accompanied by a bottle of cheap wine). After he finished struggling to lock the door, we hopped off the steps and began the first of many, many walks that were to follow. Walks that would take us to our respective work places and various cafes for breakfasts. Our walks took us to the bus station, to the market, to the park. We discovered the streets and the cute houses that lined it, especially the one with the music stand in the kitchen. We discovered a magical front lawn with turrets and towers and dragons. We discovered neighbours who let us borrow a microwave one spring day. Sometimes we walked in silence and often we shared stories, but always, we walked... side by side... And there's something in me that has attached a lot of meaning to not only those morning walks (and sometimes, afternoons and evenings too), but to the corner where his place sat, the way it felt when we first stepped outside, me breathing in the sound of him locking the door behind us.

When we left on Tuesday morning, I briefly noted that locking the front door no longer took as much time as it used to. And I didn't note until later that when I went down those steps that it would be the last time I'd do it. But when we hit the sidewalk I had to stop myself from turning around and saying goodbye to a place that was never mine, yet felt like it had become a part of me.

It's funny, how your memory works. Mine, I've often thought, is photographic, for lack of a better term. Without as much as closing my eyes, I can not only see the whole space before me, but I can feel it. How do I share the memories that those deep ochre yellow walls hold? What joys the kitchen shared, what secrets the bedroom knows... Can you hear the music we heard? How do I describe the scent of a space that instantly put me at ease, that I breathed in at nights feeling like I belonged? How do I tell him that a whole Spring of joy was spent in there, that I associate a season of sighs of relief and breaths of fresh air with that space, and him, the man that occupied it? And how I ache now that he has moved on and out, that it is gone from his life, and symbolically with it, me too. The last night that I spent there was the only night I ever slept truly alone - and there is probably more significance to that than I care to acknowledge.

It was a particularly warm day, that Tuesday morning, and I couldn't help but feel like it was spring while we walked. The rising sun in the distance caught me in the middle of a sentence and my train of thought became a wreck. It was gold and orange over the rooftops and the birds were chirping. I stood still for a second and let the scene wash over me. There it was, in an instant, the whole of what it felt like to be with him: fresh, crisp morning air, the warming glow of the sun, the faint chirp of birds in the distance. It was Spring again, the season of our births; it was Renewal on the corner of Lancaster and Mansion.

2009-01-25T22:52:00.003-05:00

Wishful Thinking

My parents just came in to wish me a Happy New Year and with their lucky red pockets came well-wishes for the upcoming year. Of course, they wished me good health, happiness, and prosperity, but my favourite had to be when they both (completely independent of each other) wished that I find a good boyfriend this year. And of course, that was the wish that they felt the need to elaborate the most on. Thanks for that, mum and dad. As if they're the only ones who noticed my painful existence in the land of Singlehood. They're definitely not the only ones; my cousin of 16 years old asked me over the holidays if liked being alone (his tone of voice implying that it was weird I didn't have a boyfriend). Little do my parents know, I wished for the same thing when I prayed to the ancestors this afternoon, all five times.

2008 was the year of moving around, which, though it scared off a couple of guys, was really great for me. Now that I've gotten to where I am, I don't know if I would call it being needy or clingy (I wouldn't, actually)... I just know, really KNOW, what it's like to be in love, REALLY in love, and goshdarnit to heck, I miss that. When I'm with someone, like really WITH someone, I believe in them and in the Powers That Be for having brought us together. It's like my faith can finally stop hovering around awkwardly and finally settle somewhere, with a sigh of relief. And at the end of the day, I don't know how to say it other than: It's just a really nice feeling to go to bed believing in something.

2009-01-25T22:08:00.005-05:00

A New Lunar Year

As opposed to doing an "In Retrospect" post in honour of the Gregorian calendar New Year, I've decided to honour my heritage and reflect on 2008 as it was determined by the moon. Today is technically the Eve and tomorrow is officially the Year of the Ox! w00t.

I suppose I can't start talking about last year in any way other than: "In retrospect"... 2008 was a kickass year for me. It brings me a lot of joy to be able to say that, because for the longest, longest time, I've been wishing for nothing more than a solid year of goodness. And it looks like I either finally got what I wished for, or I just have a very selective memory. I'm glad that I was optimistic from the start - perhaps that positive energy manifested itself into eleven months of YAY.

Looking back, my last semester of university was my favourite. I was only in school part time, which was a blessing. I took one online course and audited two of the most interesting courses ever - I learned so much. I worked part-time with a not-for-profit in a whole other part of the city, and had community theatre on the side and performed in two shows (The Importance of Being Earnest being my biggest show to date). I saw New York for a weekend. I stayed active with campus tours, taking on a third job for a month, the gym and pool, kayaking and riding my bike. I loved my tiny apartment above a little shop in the perfect location in uptown, and I loved loved loved my roommate. I recycled and composted like mad. I cooked more and tried new foods. And that was just the first four months.

Then there was April: finally finishing school; after five years I graduated and got my degree! And then there was May and June: another fabulous tour season on the road, after which I was honoured with the Tour Leader of the Year Award (I was totally shocked to bits). There was July: moving to learn French in small-city Quebec. I've waited a long time to live like I did in Chicoutimi... I don't know if I've ever had five weeks so positive and utterly perfect in my entire life. In August, there was moving back to my favourite mid-sized-city Ontario where I lived with one of the sweetest people alive and started another job that allowed me to move around and be in different places doing different things every day of every week (for a few months). I've seen my proverbial "own backyard" (i.e.: all over Ontario) like I never would have and I am so grateful for that. Then in November there was going back on tour, and then, of course, there was Cancun! Nothing but booze on the beach, on the bus, on the boat under the sun for a week. And all of the sudden there was December: another job; full-time, permanent, benefits, with the tour company I've been with for years, except now I'm bumped up a few notches. Which brings us to now... a time when I'm living life as a working stiff.

When I think back, there were no breaks. I went seamlessly from one thing and one place to another with a weekend, a day, or sometimes, just hours in between - and I wouldn't have had it any other way. 2008 kept me on my toes. At the time I thought I might very well lose my mind from the amount of things I had going on, but I never did. I didn't lose a single thing in any of my four moves. As busy as I was doing my random assortment of jobs and travel and et cetera, I had a lot of time to myself too. There was two months of long coach rides. There was discovering myself in a different language. There was at least two handfuls of really awesome concerts. There was two months of long drives across the province. There was lots of general and genuine happiness. And growth. 2008 felt like it was totally MY year, the Year of Me. ...and Obama.

In the end, nothing really turned around and ganged up on me to bitch-slap me in the face, like I worried (uhm, except my Head and Heart - I have GOT to stop those two from hanging out). The year was good, dammit, GOOD. And I miss it already.

2009-01-22T23:35:00.002-05:00

A Bit Of Warmth On A Cold Winter Night

I grew up in a rather slummy neighbourhood in Toronto called Regent Park. At the time, all my relatives lived in government subsidized housing, but not us. Oh no, my family of four lived in a luxuriously small one-bedroom apartment. At nights, before I fell asleep, I used to watch the cockroaches crawl up the wall next to my bunkbed.

Down the street and around the corner was a gentlemen's club, and across the street was an old church meets soup kitchen meets homeless shelter. On some mornings, when I walked out of our building I used to see men sleeping on the grates by the front doors. I distinctly remember trying to talk to them one time and my parents pulled me away and told me not to. I also remember not understanding why. I asked who they were and no one answered me.

I wonder sometimes if my living where I did when I was young (and spending so much time in Toronto when I was older) could have desensitized me to homelessness because I saw it so often, as a part of my daily life. Instead, maybe it influenced my heightened sensitivity to the issue. Maybe it was because I studied sociology in school. Maybe it's because I've travelled to some very poor places in the world. Maybe it's because I recently got to know someone who works in housing vulnerable populations. Either way. I can't pinpoint when it started, but every winter, when I step outside into that frigid air, I can't stop thinking about it. About them, out there in the cold.

---

Dear Terry,

I don't know if you remember me. I met you last Saturday night, when my friend Dan and I were walking to a cafe after a concert. You approached us asking for change. To be honest, I'm actually really glad that I didn't have any change on me, because that meant that we got to spend some more time together. You hesitated for a second, but I'm glad you decided to come to the cafe with us after all.

In retrospect, I should have gotten you something in addition to the coffee. You said you didn't want tea or hot chocolate or soup, but I feel like maybe you would have wanted a sandwich, or a bagel, or something. I couldn't tell if you were hungry, and I don't like to make assumptions, but I should have just bought something anyway. I couldn't tell if you felt uncomfortable either - I asked as many questions as I did because I wanted to make the atmosphere a little lighter, a little warmer, because it was so bitterly cold that night. I wondered how warm your coat was, how long you had been wandering the streets for...

You spent a while putting cream and sugar into your coffee and during those few minutes I must have stopped myself from asking you to stay and sit with us a dozen times. After you left, I smacked myself upside the head for actually not asking you to stay. I should have, I really should have. I suppose I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable, but then I thought to myself that I'm not really one for social customs anyways, so who cares? Your coffee would have stayed warmer for longer.

I meant it when I said that it was nice to meet you, because it was. I really meant it when I said to take care, because I hope you do.

Until next time. Stay warm Terry.

2009-01-19T19:51:00.004-05:00

Nothing Like Hair Removal Humour To Brighten My Day

I'm in a particularly crummy mood and it's not just because of the real life version of the last two posts, but because I had a very distressing yoga class tonight. My mind was all over the place and for the life of me, I couldn't get myself to focus. My balance was totally off, my postures didn't feel right, my concentration was in complete pieces. Last week I was so intensely into the class that I came out feeling like a million breaths of fresh air. This week, all I can say is that I felt far worse coming out of it than I did going in (which was pretty yuck to begin with).

Lucky for me, there was an email sitting in my Inbox from a salon I once went to years ago for some waxing (I still remember my esthetician: a beautiful Polish woman with a degree in chemical engineering who couldn't find work or recognition for her education here). Replete with red, white, and blue, stars and fireworks all over, it read:

Bye Bye Bush, Hello Obama!

In order to celebrate the inauguration of the new President of the United States of America, Barack Obama, Ritual is offering 20% off all Brazilian bikini waxes on inauguration day, Tuesday January 20th 2009. So say farewell fuzz, and bye bye Bush!!

It made me LOLL (laugh out loud, literally).

2009-01-18T13:19:00.004-05:00

Musical Mourning

I've often thought that if a person wants to get to know me, to really get to know me, we have to share a musical bond (and they have to watch The Motorcycle Diaries). And I don't mean, "Check out the new Kanye album, it's awesome!" - though I'd appreciate that as well. I mean taking the time to think about the other person and what they'd like and carefully selecting certain songs to share. I mean going to concerts and having a rockin' good time, but I also mean sitting down in a theatre and experiencing opera or Indo-jazz together. I choose my concert buddies carefully, and extend invitations only to those whom I care for and know will appreciate the experience. Sharing music is ultimately like sharing intimate little pieces of me.

Back when D-bag and I were seeing each other, we had a discussion about money and our spending habits. Knowing that I was a bit of a thrift (in comparison to the $600 he'd spend on ONE outfit), he asked me what it was that I would spend money on. I told him: travel, theatrical experiences, music and concerts... He said: clothes. Not surprisingly, and for a multitude of other reasons, we didn't last long.

I'm the type to pay attention to particularly good soundtracks when I watch movies. I once emailed a DJ from the campus radio station to commend him on a fabulous set that he played one afternoon. If I have a crush, I crush on my crush's music too. When I came back home after six months away in 2007, one of my closest friends sat me down in his room (where he had a stack of CDs waiting) and played me all the wonderful music that I had missed while I was gone overseas. Adam and I re-bonded over the fact that he spent weeks just sending me music that he thought I'd like - we starting dating again not long after that. I swooned when my roommate's (then potential) boyfriend dropped by one day with a mix CD he made of cool music from North America because she had just come here from England.

Back when I was single and bitter, my tagline was "music is my boyfriend". I proclaimed, Don't make Love to me. Make Music to me! Looks like I'm back to such an attitude now...

In dealing with my most recent heart (and head)ache, I've discovered that I actually had such a musically bonding experience - he and I simultaneously melted a little bit when we realized we both knew Blonde Redhead and Battles - and that my sadness has much to do with the fact that I've now lost someone that I loved sharing obscure music with, a fun concert buddy, a person who could sweep me off my feet with the sounds he introduced me to. I took him to his first (mini) opera, we experienced a breathtaking Carmina Burana (where the symphony first met the street, and one of the best things I've ever seen). There are countless songs and artists that will probably remind me of him forever - some that I can't listen to anymore without my heart feeling so heavy and full that it threatens to fall out of my chest. There's actually one song that immediately brings to mind not only the image of us on his rug in the living room, but the whole of what it felt like to be in his apartment that spring. It is SO a part of my nature and also SO unfortunate that I attach such significance to music because those little things I attached will never leave me now. Adding to the level of unfortunality is the fact that he's the type of person who doesn't have sticky emotional strings like I do (who is, really?), so he's able to listen to the music I introduced him to without thinking of me at all.

But I held onto the part of our relationship that seemed to have the most longevity. Back in August, I was sitting near his house in a park at an ultra-cool didgeridoo concert thinking of how he would have loved it if only he wasn't suspiciously camping with his ex-ex-girl/bestfriend for the weekend. Suffice to say, he had a good camping trip, and I didn't talk to him for months. But, in attempting to create an environment where we could have some fun again and work on this whole 'Friends' thing, I asked him to a couple concerts for two artists I introduced him to last week. He couldn't make it to one, and then (accidentally? purposefully?) invited his ex-ex-girl/bestfriend whom he lied to about me to the other one. Not exactly my idea of a fun night. So I guess that's that. The musical side of me was the last part I was still willing to share with him, and it looks like my latest efforts are also my last. Nothing like a(nother) giant backfire to teach me (yet) a(nother) lesson in How To Stop Giving Yourself Away.

2009-01-14T22:52:00.005-05:00

The Last Two Times

It's not like I haven't tried. Oh believe me, I've tried. But there was something, coming from somewhere that kept me from straying too far, like a dog on a leash, or a bird who thinks it's free, but doesn't understand it's in an aviary.

The first time was dramatic as all hell. I had just had a few drinks, but thought I was fine, so my emotions were heightened beyond my comprehension. I ended up upset and crying (after giving a gift, for goodness' sake), and cried some more (alone on the bathroom floor - for goodness' sake!). And then, all of the sudden I decided I needed to leave, so I went and stormed down the street in the dark with gritted teeth and balled fists. It felt like a scene from a made-for-TV movie. I half-wondered if he would chase after me. He didn't. The last thing I said to him was, "Please don't come!" in a mouthful of sob.

It took a few days before I called him.

The second time, I was sitting on my front porch with his voice hot and electric in my right ear. We were supposed to 'hang out' that night - tacos and beer, like we used to sometimes. I was trying to explain why I was feeling apprehensive, and all of the sudden, I hit the nail on the head with one question. In a flurry of blurred eyes and heartbeats in my ears I hung up on him. I stared at the phone sitting in my lap for a long time afterwards, surprised and gasping for air. I didn't pick up when he called back. I wondered if he would try again. He didn't. The last thing I said to him was, "Did you sleep with her?"

It took a few months before I called him.

Tonight (hopefully the last time I try to - and need to - get away from him), I kept it light and short. There was no drama, no big deals, no explanations and no feelings. "Oh no, it's fiiine. You guys have fun. Really. Good luck with moving ...and stuff." My whole body was overheating and I hoped that my uncontrollable shaking would spasm images of his apartment out of memory. I kept reminding myself to stay positive (I attempted a smile to get those endorphins flowing), to be unselfish, to remember that it wasn't about me (when, ironically, it totally was). I don't know if I felt worse before, or after the call. At least I'm not wondering whether or not he's going to do anything, because this time, I know. He won't. Prefaced with half a chuckle, the last thing I said to him was, "Bye."

You know what they say: Try, try, try again. Third time's a charm, right?

2009-01-12T23:08:00.003-05:00

Who's Got Me?

Let's play a game. Try to guess if I went on An Outing With a Friend tonight, or on A Date: After work (me) and the gym (him), we both found our own way to a Japanese/Korean restaurant that he picked. We had dinner, caught up on the last six years, and then took a walk to find a bar where we sat down for a couple drinks and awkward glances at the televised basketball game. We walked to the subway station and I said yes to having him teach me to play pool. We rode a few stops together before he gave me a hug and got off. So, Friend-Date or Date-Date?

I staunchly stand by my description of, "Oh, I just had dinner and drinks with a friend from high school," because (and this is how I KNOW-know it was just a Friend-Date) we went Dutch on everything and he didn't offer to pay for me. Despite the fact that personally, I am actually inclined to say that it was an unfortunate collision of the two (a Friend-Date Turned Date-Date), I stand by the belief that a Date-Date is only so when a) he pays and b) you want it to be one. In this case, a) he didn't and b) I didn't either.

This is one of the ways in which I'm old-fashioned and an Idiotic Romantic at heart. Sure, I'll always offer to pay even when a guy pushes my wallet away, it's lovely for me to treat my boy too, and once you're settled into a relationship I fully believe in taking turns covering costs. And while I'd never ask someone to pay for me, I sill believe that Friends? go Dutch. Guys who want to get with you? pay for your dinner and drinks.

Then again, there's the type of guy who doesn't fall into either of these (two very black/white, totally unrealistic) categories. B, the guy I dated two summers ago, and Z, my handy Friend-cum-Stand-In-Boyfriend. The first few times B and I went out, I paid for everything (because he didn't have any cash on him. Honestly, gentlemen - if that is indeed what you are - never go out with a lady without some version of money on you. This is bad form and highly unattractive.), which frankly, both appalled and dismayed me. We continued to see each other and I'm pretty sure I continued to treat him to things.

Now, Z, is the exact opposite. In the handful of years that I've known him, every time we go out with our group of friends, he is constantly paying for taxis, hotels, drinks... he's even covered coat check fees. He doesn't (at least, I don't think) want to 'get with me', nor is he very rich; he's just extremely generous with his money and he clearly likes treating his girl friends like ladies when we go out. This past weekend, as we're all getting ready to go out to a club, he says to me, "I got you." (Except, with his slight thug accent it sounds more like "I gotchu.") I smiled. "You got me?" I asked, half knowing-hoping I knew what he meant. "Yea, I got you all night." Now, gentlemen - if you are truly looking to make your woman's knees all melty, tell her you got her, ie: you're paying for all her drinks and then some. Too bad we were only at the club for 45 minutes before my best friend couldn't stand up on her own anymore and we had to get out of there before the bouncers 'assisted' us.

What am I trying to say again?

Oh yeah. Tonight reminded me a lot of two things: 1. What it's like to date again, and 2. How much I'm not looking forward to dating again. I am currently lamenting the fact that I'm sitting here picking apart the evening I just had when it was just "dinner and drinks with a friend from high school," and it (and he) was perfectly nice. All in all, it didn't seem like he was grasping for a spark, a chance, or even my left boob. And, well, I suppose I have something to look forward to: the kind of dating that I choose voluntarily, and less awkwardly.

To the future. *clink*

2009-01-10T23:57:00.001-05:00

Fam Jam

I spent the last two evenings of my holiday time off work watching home videos with my family. I remember sleeping in very late that Saturday and when I finally made it downstairs to get food, I settled at the kitchen table for hours, just munching away, going through weekend flyers and chatting with my family about our big trip this summer. We all went our own ways for the afternoon and come dinner time, we were all around the table again and before we knew it we had agreed to watch the video from our road trip out to the east coast last summer.

I never imagined that I'd spend Saturday nights in my mid-twenties like this: sitting in my parents' bedroom in my jammies, watching vacation videos and reminiscing about how it was at the same time a great and horrifying a trip for FIVE AND A HALF HOURS. Yep - we were up until just about 2am enjoying each others' company, only to return to it the next night. Sunday was spent watching videos from our trips to Chicago and Spain. I was pleasantly surprised at how nice it was and it's times like these that let me think that I can happily live here for longer than I think.

Come this Saturday, I arrived home after 36 hours away and all I wanted was to get away from everyone and do my own thing in my own space. As much as I had just come "home", I really didn't feel like I was at home. I felt restless and unsettled in every room. Though I was vaguely surprised, unlike last weekend, I did not enjoy these feelings nearly as much and they did not give the impression that I would be happy living here for much longer, which is unfortunate.

I started off my weekend by viewing my first apartment in the city Friday evening with the thought that this potentially might/will happen (me semi-permanently moving out of my family's place and in with Tanya somewhere in Toronto). My hopes for a nice place to live are high, and consequently, the probability of finding a place to suit my tastes are quite low. I'm willing to be patient though, as long as the itch to be anywhere but here doesn't keep up.

Until then, I have my fingers crossed that I continue to enjoy my family as much as they enjoy having me back here.

2009-01-08T22:03:00.004-05:00

Getting The Wahoo Back

Yesterday I said:
Tomorrow is the day before the day I can wear jeans at work. This excites me.

Today I said:
I think I pulled a muscle from sitting down.

Tomorrow I want to say:
I want to feel like the music is coming from inside my head.

So far, throwing myself back into the daily grind of a job has not made me want to hide under my covers. I left work today feeling bright and awake enough to last about a third of the first leg home. I fell asleep immediately after. Commuting via driving, however, has finally gotten on my last nerve and I went crawling back to the ways of public transit. Now I can enjoy my new in-ear earphones that I got for Christmas from a fellow audiophile who understands the importance of reducing the sound of subway tracks when trying to listen to your tunes. I'd also like to try to take up a hobby like knitting or reading again, given that my commute is at least an hour and a half, but the gentle rumble of the trains and buses just knock me right out and I can be too exhausted to get up for my stop nevermind trying to make a scarf. The hobbies will have to wait.

We recently got new policies at work and Fridays at the office are now officially Casual. I have never loved denim so much. It gives me some of the wahoo back. Speaking of tomorrow, my best bud and I are going to view an apartment in the city, which also happens to be down the hall from this character (who recently declared 2009 to be the Year of the Super Awesome Kickass Ninja). Is my life about to become an episode of Friends? (NO - it's going to be an episode of I-don't-know-what, but we-have-ninjas-and-dinosaurs, so visit soon!) Then we are all going to eat homemade vegan chili and then we're going to glam up and go dancing. Wahoo indeed.

2009-01-01T23:54:00.001-05:00

In Two Thousand Oh Nine

When it comes to resolutions and things I want for myself this year, all I can say is:

Good Looking Revolutionary Wanted

2008-12-27T19:17:00.002-05:00

Trypped Up

Yours truly has officially made her own, full holiday dinner - complete with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes (of the regular and sweet variety), baked veggies, and stuffed peppers and cannelloni to boot. It was a meal fit for at least ten, but only six were seated at the table. Results? A fabulous meal, a girl who is a little less afraid of washing a turkey inside and out, and lots of leftovers.

My gift to myself this year is this mantra: Eat Positively, Think Healthily. So, I went and purchased myself a membership to the local hot yoga studio with the hopes that I will help my body better itself. I want to be stronger, more capable; I want to feel more able in general, physically and mentally. Also, nothing feels better to me than a good sweat and my goodness, doing 90 minutes of yoga in a 40-something degree room is definitely the way of going about sweating out those toxins. I'm going to a class per day for the next week as an intro, and after just two of them, I can definitely feel the changes. The big one being that I'm aching all over.

So between eating turkey for three days straight and doing yoga that makes my muscles feel like screaming into oblivion (omg, will I ever walk again?!), I can't tell if it's the tryptophan or the exercise or the 3:30am nights that's making me feel like sleeping in until at least noon and then taking a nap at 6pm. Either way, I could live like this for a while.

2008-12-22T22:04:00.004-05:00

Oh, Brother

Like with the rest of my family members, my brother and I have gone through varying levels of love and hate with each other. Up until our double digits, he and I were BFF - mainly because we were only a year apart and didn't have a lot of other choices. I'd like to think that he had a certain reverence for me, being his big sister and all, but it was all probably because if he didn't play with me, he didn't play at all. So all the games were my choosing: we wrapped ourselves in my parents' bedsheets and played Fashion Show on their big bed, we set up my Barbie kitchen and played, well, Barbie Kitchen. Every now and then we'd play House, Camping, Race Car, and if he was lucky, Nintendo. But I saw that he was quickly getting better than me and at that point I only agreed to play if he let me win; if he didn't, I'd cry and not play again. So, he let me win.

I admit it. I was a crappy big sister.

Then, when the hormones hit, we were total enemies. He soon realized that a one year age difference does not a big-sister-worthy-of-respect make. We'd get into these awful fights where we'd yell and scream at each other until our parents burst in and tore us apart. He once wrote all over my diary, so I ripped up his swimming certificates in retaliation. We'd hit, punch and kick. Another time, we beat each other with our mini pool sticks until they both snapped in half. This was all before we finished elementary school.

Thank goodness we went to different high schools. I was in the gifted program, worked on the yearbook, joined band and every club imaginable. He did poorly in school, got into fights, went to raves and hot-boxed in my bathroom.

I suppose I started to love him again - in a different, more mature way - when I left home to go to university. It also helped that during that time he grew up and did a little maturing of his own. Nowadays, he's the one I go to when I have questions about things I don't understand. We ask each other's advice before making important decisions. He meets my boyfriends before my parents do. I find the most joy in picking out his birthday and Christmas presents. He spent an hour showing me his new cell phone and shows me new games that he knows I would love on his Nintendo DS. He's my emergency contact when I fill out forms. He knocked on my door when he realized I had slept in on my first day of work (and then drove me to the subway station to save me time). He was the first person I called when I lost control of the car this morning and smashed into a snowbank.

After dinner tonight, I spent about an hour perfecting a giant bowl of guacamole for my potluck lunch at work tomorrow. When I was done, I set up a platter with a little bowl in the middle with guac, and I meticulously spread out a handful of our favourite Triscuits (black pepper & olive oil) around it for dipping. I excitedly went upstairs and knocked on his door. In all honesty, I could not wait for him to try my famous guacamole. I knew he would love it. I wanted him to see the special platter I made.

"Yeah?"
"Can I come in?"
"Well, what is it?"
"I just finished making my guacamole and I have some here for you."
"Can we come down and get it later?"
"Oh, okay. Yeah, sure, I'll just put it on the counter. Just come down ...quick. Before it goes brown."
"Okay, thanks."

My heart sank. He didn't want my guac. He was probably making out with his girlfriend. Sigh. Oh, brother.

2008-12-16T21:09:00.000-05:00

Girl Talk

Yesternight, for the first time since I started my new job two weeks ago, I was happy as I commuted home. It was due in part to the fact that I had just finished the bulk of my Christmas shopping, and that I had Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas blasting on the radio. (I sang along very loudly.) Tonight, on the TWO AND A HALF hour drive home, I felt far less than festive. Homo-sui-cidal was more like it. Seriously, people. I have a two hour commute home after work (mornings are usually about an hour, but STILL). Rush hour sucks. I want my life back.

Wasting three to four hours on the road driving to and from work every day does mean, however, that I have strong reasons for wanting to move out (public transit takes two hours too, blech). Truthfully, I was looking at listings in the city on the Sunday night before my first day. Surprisingly though, I have not felt extremely uncomfortable since I've moved back in full-time with my family. My stuff has all been here since April, but I've been on the move so that I've spent at most three or four consecutive days here since the spring. I think my mentality is that I've been away for so long that being here again is almost sort of novel. I've enjoyed spending weekends with my family, I want to have dinner with my parents, and I sit to watch the news with them if I'm not too crabby after work. I'm hoping these feelings last because I know they will so not take the news well when I express that I want to move out. I give it six months to a year.

The warm, fuzzy feelings may also be due to the fact that it is the holidays and, unlike last year (and the several years before that), I'm hoping not to feel too cold and prickly. Hrm, I may need more wine... I am excited for this weekend though - it's Nutcracker time! I'm glad that this is one tradition I've managed to keep despite the fact that it was started with an ex-boyfriend five years ago. Dinner, ballet, dancing... Tanya and are going to glam up and hit the town with fanciness all around.

For the first time in a really, really long time, I'm not waiting for school or exams to finish before I'm officially on holidays. I'm just waiting for the office to close. My last day is going to involve a gift exchange and a potluck lunch, so that's exciting. I'm bringing my guacamole to the little par-tay and hopefully it'll be a hit. I actually made guacamole the other night and I minced so many cloves of garlic that the fingers on my left hand still smell like garlic. I've showered, washed my hands countless times, have applied perfume and lotions and still: GARLIC. Gross. I probably should have volunteered to bring something else.

I've taken a couple glimpses into the crystal ball that is my life lately and I'm not loving what I see (commute, work, eat, work, commute, eat, sleep, repeat). The thing I'm most looking forward to in 2009 is yoga.

2008-12-14T22:36:00.000-05:00

Say What You Need To Say

Last night at 2:30am...

I can't sleep. Admittedly, it's not like I've tried very hard, but I can feel it inside, that my body doesn't want to sleep yet. I honestly don't know what it wants to do right now, well, maybe I have a slight idea, but sleep isn't it. There's too much going on in my head. And when it's your head that's awake, not even warm milk can help.

I want to talk to my best friends, but it's almost 2:30am now and I'm really missing the days when I lived with Tanya and I could crawl into her room at nights when I couldn't sleep. She'd stay up with me and we'd talk until the morning light. I tried to start reading a new book to relax, get my mind on something else, but I didn't make it past the intro.

I'm trying to remember that I have to get up early because I promised my family that I'd make breakfast for everyone tomorrow morning. And I'm learning more and more that it is very, very important to keep the promises you make.

---

I'm feeling vaguely unsettled. Not sure what's eating me either. Well, I suppose that's not entirely true. I've always been fairly intuitive, but knowing what's bugging me and not knowing what to do about it isn't exaclty as helpful as those knowing-is-half-the-battle folks say.

My colposcopy/biopsy has been on my mind since Wednesday because my lady-part-innards are still recovering. I'll probably be on eggshells until late January when I find out results because this is the last test that I'm going to do. After this, it's "treatment" - if I need it, which I hopefully won't. Talk about ringing in the new year...

And then there's matters of the heart. Oh, it's true (again - not that it ever stops), I'm suffering from something over here, even if it is just mild naivete. It seems that I am still master of the artless simplicity of unrequited love after all these years. And I thought it was something I was going to outgrow, like puberty or an old t-shirt. If only.

I haven't slept very much the last couple of nights - I've been up late reading things that lead to remembering things I purposely have not thought about in a long time. Perhaps it was due to a deep curiosity, or just temporary insanity, but I actually spent my first waking hours on Saturday morning reading through the journal I kept when The Badness happened four years ago. I wanted to see how I got better, how I had gotten over it, if there were any techniques I used, or if there was a shift in paradigm after a while. To a bit of surprise, there was nothing concrete in there except total and utter soul-emptying sadness. My god, it was draining to read through that stuff (note to self: do not do that again). I don't know what I was thinking, that there'd be a 12 step program I went through, that there would be one entry in which everything changed and I was happy again? I had to shake my head at myself afterwards. Oh, the price I paid for my curiosity.

This is so one of those times when I feel like I have a lot to say, but have no way of saying it. Dammit, language! How limited you are.

2008-12-09T23:50:00.000-05:00

In The Spirit Of Positive Thinking, And Hoping, And Praying...

Tomorrow I am going to do something that has become fairly routine this past year or so. I'm going to the hospital to get a colposcopy.

Wiki says that, "The main goal of colposcopy is to prevent cervical cancer by detecting precancerous lesions early and treating them", which I'm sure is true, BUT I ask: what qualifies as early? Because I've been doing these colposcopies and tests and biopsies for almost exactly two years now and personally, I don't think that TWO YEARS LATER still means "early." Just sayin'.

I've subscribed to a fatalistic approach in life for a while now; I accept things that happen simply as things that were meant to happen. But that has never stopped me from wishing, hoping, praying for an outcome that I'd prefer. And tomorrow, you can bet that I'm going to have every cell in my body poised towards NOTHING BAD.

2008-12-08T20:52:00.002-05:00

In Retrospect

In trying to pack for a week in Cancun, I found myself sitting at the computer browsing the Internets in search of something to do. Something other than packing. My bag was almost full, but my bed was still scattered with things that needed to go in. Books, my hair straightener, make up bag, 2 out of 5 pairs of shoes, camera, sunglasses.... I found that when I hit a snag (ie: should I put each pair of shoes into plastic bags so they don't get scratched/scratch other things?) I just gave up entirely. Hence, me sitting at the computer screen. I'm sooo one of those people that hates to pack and loves to unpack. My mum just brought in some of the laundry that had finally finished drying and it reminded me of what a zealous over-packer I've become...

Brought: 10 pairs of earrings
Wore: 5

Brought: 6 pairs of shoes (for a week, I KNOW - didn't I just say overzealous?)
Wore: 5 (not bad, eh?)

Brought: 3.5 bathing suits/bikinis (the .5 is a mix 'n match top)
Wore: 2

Brought: close to 15 tops, 2 skirts, 4 pairs of shorts, 3 dresses, etc.
Wore: the same damn two outfits for 5 days (thank goodness we went out at nights or else I never would have changed)

Brought: 2 romance novels
Read: 0 (I read my Spanish phrasebook or just lay to the sound of the surf)

Brought: 0 conch shells
Now own: 1 conch shell (that I can blow into a la Lord of the Flies!)

To sound like a broken record: I miss Mexico.

2008-12-07T21:15:00.006-05:00

Hello Almost Adulthood

I am an odd combination of needfully attached and terribly neglectful. I have posts from all the different places I've been the last few weeks because everywhere I go I want to stop and say Hello! to everyone, but they all sit in Draft form because I haven't actually sat myself down to write anything out in full. In short, I think of things often and rarely do anything about them. Fabulous.

My tour to Philly and DC was unfortunately the most stressful four days I've had in a while. It's too bad that it was my last one in a while and was just about the second worst tour I've ever had - through no fault of my own, just circumstances out of my control (see: myself and the driver being not entirely familiar with the area, a broken bus, terrible timing, etc). Now to think of it, this tour was not unlike most tours that I lead. I have no idea how I won the Tour Leader of the Year award last season, no idea at all.

Suffice to say, by the time I went to Cancun, I was SO READY. I could not have looked forward to a week of beach and booze more. We lazed around a lot, had beers and pina coladas at 10am, lay on the beach, ate at buffets all week, took the bus down the road and went to another beach, had booze on the bus, booze on the beach, booze on the boat... booze wherever you wanted it! Even at the eco-zoo-park where we wandered around lizards, noisy-ass macaws, orchids and edible mushrooms that grew out of plastic bags with a can in our hand. Got to go snorkeling and see Chichen Itza too, something I've been wondering about since I was 16 years old. Ate lots of Mexican food. Got lots of sun (my back is peeling nicely). Spoke Spanish again. I loved Mexico. It suited me. Also, I was sick immediately before and after Cancun, so it's obvious what my body is trying to tell me. I just wish I could make it better without purchasing a plane ticket.

Also, so much for the job-less non-student lifestyle. While I was finishing up with Philly/DC, I got a job offer (with my tour company). And I took it. So, upon landing in T.O. on Sunday aft, I went home and immediately started prepping for my life as a working stiff for I was to start work on Monday morning. My tour to NYC got given to someone else - don't even get me started because I found out afterwards that the NYC tour had WICKED and a BROADWAY WORKSHOP in the itinerary - I KNOW. Plus, it's also New York. I was so sad. Dang, a lot can change in a week, huh? I went from taking random tours that got handed to me to working full-time in a high-rise office building. I have a desk, phone extension, work email and security pass card all on the 18th floor and everything.

And now, after my first week of work, I can say that I am indeed working, stiffly. My commute is two hours one-way and I have bid adieu to the sun because I get on the transit system (underground) before it rises and I emerge from it after work after it sets. I suspect I'll see the sun again around... May. My first week really wore me out and I am still getting used to the idea that I have about three hours of free time after work (I get in at about 7pm and am in bed around 10pm because I'm up at 5:45am!). Throw in dinner, a shower and packing lunch for the next day and I've got about an hour and a half left. With regards to the job itself, I'm lucky to be working in a fairly laid back and fun environment (we are in the tourism industry), but I have yet to find real direction and figure out exactly what it is that I'm (supposed to be) doing... it'll take some time before I fully warm up to everything I think. It's not my dream job (yet?), and I'm not saving the planet or curing cancer, but I'm hoping that one day this'll become something that I love. Well, in the spirit of positive thinking, here's to a good indefinite amount of time in the office. Cheers!

In other news, I'm an adult now. This past week I signed a contract for a full-time, permanent position and then I filled out benefits forms that included life insurance. Before this month, I have never had to use the words "salary" and "benefits" in relation to myself (also: negotiating is not fun). I had my first company Christmas party on Friday night (thank you alcohol for socially lubricating me). Oh, and I also have a cell phone. Like, legitimately. I went and read up on plans and then purchased one. First cell phone at 24. Not bad.

Sigh. I really miss Mexico. Well, here's to another week....

2008-11-17T13:29:00.000-05:00

Some Things Never Change

I'm harried. As usual. I've got a little suitcase packed for a week in the Eastern United States, a pile of clothes for the beach sitting on my bed (waiting for the suitcase to empty out), three TO DO lists (two physical and one mental), and planning for New York City on my mind.

A few months ago I considered living life as a job-less non-student living at home in the suburbs and I admit that I was less than thrilled with the idea. Though I don't mind, and sometimes prefer, to stay in the house and veg out with my family, days upon weeks of that seemed butt- and mind-numbing. But here we are today, two days after my contract with the university has ended and I'm all packed up getting ready to leave for a tour to Philly and DC with a French junior high school for the next five days.

And then I think back to this morning at 5:15am when I called my best friend and dragged my groggy self to the computer and engaged in a bidding war that lasted until 8:59:45am. $156 and seven blood pressure points later, we sat back and said, "I can't believe we won. I can't. BELIEVE. we WON." Our victorious story may be someone else's crappy Monday morning, but to hell with that; WE'RE GOING TO CANCUN!

Of course, this being my life, I leave in an hour for Ottawa-Philly-DC and come back home next Saturday evening. Then I have about 12 hours (if I'm lucky) to pack up and do my TODOB4CANCUN list before I leave in what I'm sure will be a frenetic frenzy only to find myself lying on the beach with a book and pina colada a few hours later. And then I have to go from sunny Mexico to chilly New York, because within 12 hours of returning from Cancun, I'm off on a tour to NYC for a week.

I never imagined that this chaotic nomadic-ness would be my life, but if this is what being a job-less non-student is like, then I'm perfectly fine with that.

2008-11-01T13:00:00.002-04:00

Other Messages From Other People I Love

Re: our faltering and failing love lives, and Halloween

Our horoscope for the day: This is a good time to become involved with someone who is as natural, environmentally minded, sensual and artistic as you. Well toot toot. Also - we should be geisha girls!

Re: the 1.5L plastic (lightweight and unbreakable!) bottle of Smirnoff Vodka Mojito, and lolcats

Do you know about this?!??!!

I don't intend to ever have to pay for another mojito again. For Hallowe'en, how 'bout we just buy one of these puppies, some lime, mint, and get sloshed behind a Loblaws?

I CAN HAZ ULKAHAUL?!

If that doesn't scream HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I don't know what does. Thankfully, we did not spend the night getting drunk in a grocery store's abandoned parking lot, but drove around HELL aka Toronto traffic on a Friday night, and went to a haunted chocolate factory that ended up being a haunted sidewalk outside of a chocolate factory. Then we had Thai food and good tea. Probably the low-key-est Halloween I've ever had. And it was nice.

2008-10-30T21:58:00.003-04:00

Adamazing

"This is a bubble bath inside of an e-mail. Seriously. Yeah! I'm just about to take a bubble bath, and I thought of you, and I wanted to tell you to close your eyes and imagine the loveliness, the true sheer unadulterated happy-relaxingness of a bubble bath. Whether you're at work, at home, wherever you are... know that one day you too will enter a warm, frothy, cozy place of nothing but your own slippery body and some soapy fun."

This email comes from the same person who, two years ago, told me to close my eyes, handed me a sharpie, and then led me to his kitchen table where two pumpkins sat on a bed of newspapers awaiting our creativity to be carved into them. Want a girl to swoon? Surprise her with pumpkin carving. And then make salmon and fries. Do laundry. Watch The Incredibles and eat zucchini bread. Take a bubble bath. Fold laundry.

To this day, I still remember it as one of our best nights ever, and probably the best Halloween-related activity I've done in a long while. Despite the fact that we broke up over a year ago, we still turn to mush when we reminisce.

"Thank you. How is it that you always know how to make me smile?"

"I have never wanted to make anyone smile more than I have always wanted to make you smile ever since the moment I met you."

Wow, huh?

2008-10-28T20:01:00.005-04:00

A Day In The Life Of -Or- How I Know Travelling Alone Is Finally Getting To Me -Or- Simple Pleasures

This morning got off to a better start than yesterday simply because the alarm went off properly and I was awake when I had to be awake (compared to yesterday when I awoke to 7:02AM glaring red in my eyes, the time when I was supposed to be in my car and driving away to Deep River instead of being mostly naked under the bedsheets in my hotel room). So I had time to hit the snooze button a couple times, do my eye make up a little more carefully and grab a quick breakfast before I headed out to chilly winds which did not turn to crusty frost on my windshields like it did yesterday morning.

Being earlier than yesterday, however, did not necessarily mean that I was "on time" so while I was hoping for a leisurely morning drive, I ended up speeding past a school bus that had stopped to pick up a student. Note to everyone: DO NOT DO THIS. When school buses stop, they flash their red lights and the STOP sign pops out the side because THEY WANT YOU TO STOP. If you do not stop (like I did not) you will get honked at (like I did) and you run the risk of KILLING A SMALL CHILD who is on their way to learn and educate themselves. I felt guilty the rest of the day. Well, that is until I ran a red light and then I felt guilty about that instead. I deeply apologize to Renfrew County for all the infringements on traffic laws that I have committed within the last 48 hours that I have been here. If you see a small, dark blue car going 30 to 40 over the speed limit, that's me too. Sorry. *hangs head in shame*

It's only because I was running late. And then I forgot to veer right towards the highway and ended up going north when I should have been going south. And then! then! my directions told me to take Hwy 5 when there was no Hwy 5 and then I turned onto Hwy 9 and prayed to goodness that it would take me somewhere right. Hwy 9 ended 7kms later. So I sat at this four-way intersection having to choose between going back up Hwy 9, going onto Hwy 8 or onto the 60 East or 60 West. I did what any professional Recruitment Officer would do: I called the school and asked for help. "Hi, I'm coming in for a presentation and I'm not sure where I am - where the 60 meets the 8 and the 9. How do I get to your school from here?"

"Is it a 4-way stop with a store on the corner?"

"Yes, there's a gas station."

"Oh, perfect! You're just down the road from us! Just go up the hill and you'll see us!"

"Up the hill? Well... I'm sitting at the end of Hwy 9, so should I turn onto the 8, or the 60 East or 60 West?"

"Hwy 9? The 60? Well, I don't think we're on the 60... just go up the hill honey, it's right there, you can't miss us."

"But which way onto the hill? Left, right?"

"Just go straight, straight up the hill."

"Straight up the hill. Okay, so I don't need to turn?"

"There's a store at the corner, you said, right?"

"Well, yes, it's a gas station."

"Okay, good. Now just go straight up the hill."

"But, I- okay! Hopefully I'll see you soon!" *insert cheery smile*

I looked around for a hill. Turned right and went straight. Straight up the hill. Just like she said. About a kilometre later I was back on the phone with the same lady.

"Hi there. I don't think I went up the right hill. I mean, I looked for one, but to be honest, all the roads look pretty flat."

"Did you go up the hill, honey?"

"Well, yes, but I don't see the school, so should I turn back? I'm on the 60 West now. Are you on the 60 East? Or the 8?"

"Oh dear, I don't know... There's a store at the corner right? And it's a 4-way stop? You should really just go up the hill and you'll see us!"

"OH MY G- Okay! I'll try this again and hopefully I'll see you soooon!"

WHAT FUCKING HILL?? WHAT'S WITH THE FUCKING STORE?? IT'S A GAS STATION FOR FUCK'S SAKE!! FUCK THE GODDAMNED HIILLL!!

I had to get it out of my system. I swore pretty much the entire way until I found the school. It was on Hwy 8. There was a little hill.

Also, sometime during the day I found myself talking to myself in the car. With a British accent. I think I was running through scenarios in my head and what I would do if I got pulled over. If I pretended I was a foreigner, would they let me go because of my cute accent? It worked once in a bar. Should I go for the refined, educated Londoner, or the rough, street smart Northerner, or the Kate Winslet? Personally, I liked the Kate Winslet one the best because it had sass. Seriously people: talking to myself, alone in the car, with THREE different accents. I need help.

I think this accent business was before the whole wrap-in-shoe incident. I managed to gather enough time between schools to stop in at a cafe I had passed by yesterday and figured I'd get a chai to go or something. But the friendly behind the counter guy enticed me to stay for a quick lunch, so I had a soup and half a sweet chili Thai wrap before taking the other half on the road. While speeding, I came to either a red light or a stop sign (can't remember) and didn't time it well enough which led me to step on the brakes HARD - things in the backseat were everywhere and my wrap? it tumbled out of it's plastic box home and landed in one of the shoes I have piled on the passenger side of the car (a girl needs selection - keeping a collection in the car and changing them before stepping out is easier than packing three pairs every week). I looked over mournfully. Sweet chili sauce and beans were in my blue tweed pumps. "My shoe. My wrap is sitting in my shoe. My WRAP is in MY SHOE. Great. It's in my shoe. Fucking hell." I couldn't reach it from where I was so the damn thing just sat in my shoe the whole way to my school. Now my car has the slightest hint of sweet chili scent to it.

After my last school visit I tried to be all hardcore and go for a little hike/walk in the woods nearby. A guidance counsellor had done this trail before and told me that it would take about an hour to finish. On my way there I admit I felt like wimping out - the winds had picked up and I didn't have a hat, and the sun wasn't really out so it might get dark sooner... and I realized that I had forgot to pack my casual shirts that day, but there was no stopping me. I wanted to be Hardcore Miss Outdoorsy Independent. I parked and put my camping pants over my new grey slacks and pulled my sweatshirt over my blouse. I didn't have socks, so I kicked off my kitten heels and just wore my stockings with my running shoes. I wrapped my scarf around extra carefully.

Off I went to explore a little trail that took me to a river and a dam. Okay, not bad. This is nice... I told myself. I wondered about wild animals. I saw signs for deer crossings earlier. I heard there were bears around here, up north-ish. But on I went and I found another trail. Goody. Crunch crunch went the leaves under my feet. I wondered if the noise was disturbing anything. Gosh, this would be far more enjoyable with someone else. Someone who actually knew something about the great outdoors. I told myself to suck it up and just keep going. An hour isn't that long, really. The sun will still be up. For the most part. And then I realized I had no flashlight, no compass, no protective weapon of any kind. Just my clothes and my key in my pocket. Keep going you pansy, don't wimp out on me now. If you need to, run a little and you'll finish the trail faster. Remember the guy who fought a bear with a pen? You can do that, just stab the thing in the eye with your car key. On I went. And then I heard two distinct KNOCK KNOCK sounds to my right. I froze, took one look in the general direction of the sound, turned on my heels and bolted out of there like a bat outta hell.

Panting in the driver's seat, I looked at my watch. It had been 15 minutes. Okay, okay, so Miss Hardcore Outdoorsy Independent didn't fare too well in the woods. WHAT. I didn't know the area and there was no sun and the wind was so cold it gave me a headache AND next week is hunting week which means the woods must be chock-full of animals at this point. So the sound could have been a woodpecker, I get it. But it also could have been the antlers of a big moose knocking against a tree as a warning to me that if I get any closer it'll charge and I've heard stories about those things when they charge - they can kill you, alright. So, would I rather save my flimsy pride and say that I went down fighting a wild moose (or bear) with nothing but my car key, or just make sure that I actually stay alive by going for a little jog OUT of the woods? I think we all know what's best for me in this case.

Worn out from my exertions, I went shopping. I kid - I just had a $7 credit note that needed to be used and I didn't find anything anyway. I went for a walk downtown in search of a tea room and followed signs that took me to the Recess Cafe, a tiny little thing tucked into the corner of a community centre. And there I found the peace that I had been looking for all day. Every city, every little town, no matter how bland it may seem has a place just like this, a haven. I took a walk around and settled in a red chair by the fireplace which warmed my cookie so that all the chocolate chips became gooey. I flipped through nature books and marveled at the world while sipping on hot chocolate. I chatted with the waitress (who turned out to be a student at one of the schools I'm visiting tomorrow). I watched little girls in floofy dresses come in with their mothers. I imagined my own cafe, if I'm ever to own one, and how I would make it just so, so it would allow those who walked in, regardless of whatever it was they were feeling that day (in my case: homicidal road rage), to feel exactly like I did then: simply content.

Somehow, between that lovely experience and making it into my hotel room, I managed to drip cold chai latte from this afternoon all over my pants, shoes and coat, have the wind blow so hard that I could hardly walk from my car to the hotel front doors, and when I made it to my bathroom mirror I found myself looking like a harassed wild turkey.

And that was my day. How was yours?

2008-10-19T21:20:00.003-04:00

Unwritten

I dreamt that he wrote to me. It was short and simple - and truth be told, it was fuzzy at best because I was dreaming after all and couldn't really read it - but it was written in that way that only English majors can write. In the way that only he can write. Really, I can't remember what he wrote - he may have apologized, he may have been funny, or sweet. It didn't matter. Whatever it was, it was a sigh of relief and a breath of fresh air. It was exactly what I had been waiting for. It felt so real, as though, in the middle of my slumber I actually relaxed and settled into a happier sleep. I might have actually smiled.

Waking up this morning, it took me a minute to remember that it was indeed a dream and with that realization settled in, I slumped back into that sigh of heaviness that I've been living with the past little while. He didn't write to me. He probably never will (and though I'll be disheartened, I won't be surprised). Even though it's been this long without a single word from him, the fact that I dreamt about it last night has been sitting on my heart all day.

Amongst the hundreds of emails that he and I sent to each other during our few months 'together', I really only cherish one, the one that he took some time to think about and actually write. The one in which he might have sort of- kind of- recognized my role in his life, however small and brief it was. For the tiniest moment in time, he almost let me know that he cared about me and maybe that he missed me too. But I was never sure.

One morning in the springtime, upon waking next to each other, tangled in his sheets, I told him that I had had a dream. "I dreamt about you," I whispered sleepily into his neck.

"Really." An emotionless reaction, as always. "What was I doing?"

"You were writing."

"What was I writing?" I thought for a second. I couldn't really remember what exactly it was that he was writing. And it wasn't the subject that was important, it was who he was writing to. I took a breath, a risk.

"You were writing to me."

He said nothing. A second later and he had changed the subject.

2008-10-13T23:40:00.004-04:00

Wanting To Lay Like Broccoli

I cut my nails today for the first time in what must have been two or three weeks and my lordy - it feels good. Every now and then I try that 'feminine look' by growing out my nails so that they elongate my short, stubby fingers a bit, but they inevitably get in the way of everyday activities like lifting cardboard boxes, putting my arms through wool or tweed sleeves, and typing fast. I'd like to think that I still have the ability to choose practicality over aesthetic. Good example: my shorter, but still cute, strappy heels that I wore out to the club on Saturday so that when 2:30am rolled around I was still able to walk rather than hobble, like most of the other girls.

Today was the first time in a long while that I spent the entire day at home; the only time I left the house was to move my car to another spot in the driveway. As home-body-ish and depressing as that may sound to some, there was honest-to-goodness nothing more that I wanted for myself other than to lounge around in my comfy clothes and hang out with my family. Besides, I think a day off from the world is exactly what I deserved after the week and weekend that I had. I spent everyday last week driving to and from and back to Toronto (I live about 30, 40 minutes NE) doing school visits and meeting with people for lunches and dinners. Driving in Toronto at any time of the day, nevermind during rush hour, is a horror that I wish on very few people of this planet. I feel like my road rage has grown at least two inches and that I've worn out the brakes on the car. Parking was a whole other expensive ordeal. I only had dinner at home one night the whole week (Friday) and I felt terribly guilty about blowing off another dinner (downtown yet again!) for it.

And though my weekend was just as busy, it was also just as lovely. On Friday I got my hair cut by Greg's sister who I haven't seen in about 7 years. It was really neat to chat and sort of catch up. By the time I was done it was 3pm and I had eaten an apple all day so while Tanya got a trim, I headed out onto the Danforth to find a snackie. I ended up right next door to the hair studio at a place called the Detroit Eatery, a hole in the wall burger shack devoted to the Detroit Red Wings. I walked in because it looked different and I try my best to not eat at chain restaurants anymore and ended up surrounded with hockey memorabilia and middle-aged single men chomping on greasy burgers and fries and downing Coke, or beer. Sure I felt vaguely awkward, but I was already there and I'm up for any gastronomic experience, hockey fanatic or not. When my hot turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes and mixed veggies came to the table, I realized what scene I had just created for myself: one of those sad movie situations wherein I, as the lone female, have a Thanksgiving dinner by herself in a dimly lit, dingy restaurant because I have no family nor friends or something. And then I walk home. Alone. In the snow. Of course, that totally wasn't the situation given that my best friend was getting a hair cut next door, it was beautiful weather outside and I was just jonesing for some hot turkey and gravy. I sat there and enjoyed every single, lonely bite.

(And yes, Happy Turkeyday, Canucks. Hope you enjoyed devouring your various types of fowl, or Tofurkey for the veggies out there.)

Saturday was spent doing one of my all time favourite fall activities: apple picking! My friends and I drove way out to an orchard that hadn't yet been picked out of apples (PS: it did not occur to me previous to Friday evening that an orchard could be picked out aka run out of fruit) and spent our time climbing gnarly trees, exclaiming "OOH! Look at that one! Get THAT one! It's huge! And SHINY!", and taste testing crispy, sweet Cortlands. Cruuunch. Yum. We browsed the markets and also found our way through a giant, 8-acre corn maze in just 56 minutes! We even found all the clues, answered every question and solved the mystery word at the end! Aren't we just the coolest 24-year olds that you ever met? To top it all off, we spent the afternoon counting apples, peeling apples, and slicing apples to make apple pies and apple tarts. Apples apples apples. At $14 for a bushel, we picked 72 apples which made 5 pies, 12 tarts and we each had more than 15 apples left to bring home to our family members. I think we're all going to be pretty sick of apples in just about three more days. At least they'll keep the doctors away!

I could use more apples because I'm still fighting this damn cold. I've been not 100% healthy since I left Chicoutimi the first week of August and this go go go schedule isn't helping. I didn't get home until almost 4am on Sunday morning for the sake of a friend's birthday at an ultra-cool club downtown which turned into a 1:30am food fest at the local 24-hour diner joint. I got 5 hours of sleep before I was up to get to me and my mum's facial appointments and I WISH that I could have fallen asleep during it like my mother. I don't know how the woman does it - snoring and everything! Then it was an hour and a half drive to the Loo where I spent an hour and a half doing paperwork in the office before driving back an hour and a half to meet my starving family for dinner. I almost fell asleep in the car on the way home.

That night I had several good chats with my brother and discovered that he 1. has met his life goals at 22 years old, and 2. watches Jon & Kate Plus 8 religiously. I couldn't help but gawk in shock and awe when he told me how disappointed he was that he didn't score perfect on the Twins Quiz (he scored 9/10 - he got their left-handed-right-handed-ness mixed up, poor guy - how well do YOU know Mady and Cara?). He told me all the times during the day when the show airs (two times every day with Wednesday being a marathon day - Monday used to be one too but they got rid of it those production bastaaards!) AND he schedules his work day around them. I guess working from home will let one do that. He eats specifically at 10:30 to catch the 11:00 episode, and he looks forward to 5:00 more than any other working person I know because that's when a whole HOUR of J&K+8 comes on (dinner comes right after). On marathon days he'll take the one-hour breaks between shows to shower and eat. So, that's my brother ladies and gents, having met all his life goals at 22 being a freakish cult follower of a reality tv show, in addition to owning a car and having his dream job. I'm proud of him, I am.

Speaking of which, the new episode that came on tonight at 9 (that I missed!) is airing again in 15 minutes....

2008-10-07T23:48:00.002-04:00

You Can Always Be More Ninja

Just got home from hanging out with one of my favourite people, ever. Greg and I go back about seven years to when we met as adolescents in high school, and since then we've run the gamut of possible relationships that one can have with another person. From dating and being in love to not speaking to each other for years to now being wonderful life companions. When he told me that I was one of his "lifelong companions" I told him it made me sound like his dog. It was funny, and we laughed.

Every time I'm with him a few things invariably happen: I always manage to reminisce about the time we spent together as a couple (because it was awesome); I learn something about Islam; I remind him of how he's influenced my life, even down to little details like how I obsessively dry in-between my fingers after I wash my hands like he does; we tell each other how awesome we think the other person is; he always teaches me something new and reminds me of important things that aren't so new; I eat weird hippie food and hear about his crazy hippie friends; I always leave feeling uber grateful to have him in my life. Oh yeah, and we have fun.

Tonight I tried amaranth in grain form for the first time (prior to tonight I had had it in a raw cacao drink). I learned about apple cider vinegar and cod liver oil and omega-3 fatty acids (and omega-6s and 9s). I heard about a girl named Radish, who is now the second person I've 'known' to be named like an actual fruit/vegetable (the first person being a girl in high school named Apple). He showed me a live demonstration of how to kill someone in slow-mo with a wooden T'ai Chi sword. I've been wanting to go to a drum circle dance with him for months now (we almost did tonight) and I might be able to join him for Hip Hop Karaoke on Friday. That's right, Hip Hop Karaoke - how awesome is that going to be?

He's one of the people who's fought to keep me in his life, and I'd do close to anything (just to keep this realistic) to keep him in mine. There's a lot to be said for those people, both the kind you want to keep around and those who want to keep you around in return. They're far and in between, like really good movies.

Every time I ask him how he is, he - without fail - replies with, "I'm fuckin' awesome!" because he is. He's one of those people who I've shared so many wonderful moments with that we can't remember them all (it's a nice surprise when one of us brings one up that we haven't thought of in a while). I want to introduce him to everyone I know because he is that awesome and associating with him makes me feel that much cooler. I feel refreshed when we part; like I can't wait to start the rest of my life being awesome like him. He said to me tonight, "Most people operate below the Ultimate Level of Awesomeness and I don't know why. It's my job, my duty, to bring people up to that higher level of awesomeness because that's where I live. And rule." I also remember: "You can always be more ninja." He's right, I can.

I'm a big fan of all things Greg. Even if it means listening to some crazy every now and then (he once had a two-hour conversation about flying pirate ships (...I don't know how either)). I've got enough of my kind of crazy and I like his brand of the stuff. It sounds fuckin' awesome.

2008-09-30T20:50:00.003-04:00

Turn Turn Turn

During the last few weeks of August, I'd sometimes pass by this one tree walking to and from work and even then its leaves were changing colour. The premature golden reds dismayed me because I felt like I didn't have enough of a summer yet and really, it was still August! It rained nearly every other day during July when I was in Chicoutimi and when I came back to the Loo I was in the office everyday and hardly got to enjoy what was left of the sun. Alas, I've been able to smell the onset of autumn for weeks now, but with the brisk air in the mornings and early sunsets and dusks recently, Fall really has come around again.

This means a couple things for me: a cold, inevitably. I'm sniffling as we speak and the congestion headache is getting worse by the hour. In a few minutes when I'm bound to sneeze, I will follow up by stuffing tissue up my nostrils. My immune system isn't what it used to be, so with the added stress of work, lack of good sleep and proper nutrition, the changing of the seasons usually means a breakdown in health for me. Yipee.

Autumn also means another thing: a new line of shoes. There is, honestly, little to nothing better for me than a nice, hot pair of stiletto boots. I love Fall because of what it means for the shoe stores, really; I'm like a kid in a candy store. The heartbreaking thing here is that I can only window shop and drool because nothing fits over MY FAT CALVES. I'm only a little bitter. I swear to goodness, last winter Tanya and I did two whole rounds of the Eaton Centre in Toronto (quite a large mall), and went into EVERY SINGLE SHOE STORE and still! I didn't find a single pair of boots that would comfortably zip up two inches past my ankle. I say "comfortably" because I do remember one or two pairs that I managed to zip up all the way, but in the process of doing so I think I cut off circulation to my feet and left the skin on my lower legs red and imprinted with the design of the inner boot, ie: the seaming. I have since resigned myself to buying the winter ankle bootie, something I thought I'd never do. It'll have to suffice until a designer out there realizes the plight of the Fat Calved Woman Who Loves Tall Boots. Le sigh.

Speaking of shoes, I somehow ended up shopping today after my school visits were done. I'm noticing a disturbing pattern wherein I spend most of my free time on this job either eating or shopping. Both of these activities will have to be cut down lest I end up fat and poor. Or, like Tanya says it: Well dressed and well fed. In my defence, I did spend an hour at a park, sitting on giant stones by the lake reading with my shoes off. And then I went for a walk in the cute downtown area and read some more at a little cafe. These are the things that I really like to do with my spare time, but there's only so long that you can sit at a place before it either gets too chilly or just up and closes because hey, it's the end of the day. So I ended up at the mall. I need to run an errand anyway. I will, however, sheepishly admit that I left the mall with 2 skirts, 4 tops, and 2 pairs of shoes, and NOT the items that I needed to get in the first place. Again, in my defence, everything I bought was on sale AND: 2 shirts are for work, one skirt replaces one that I just got rid of (and it was only $5!), one pair of shoes is for work, and the rest of the items were just pretty. And on sale. Find me someone else who can get 4 tops, 2 skirts and 2 pairs of shoes for $100! In my deep concentration while shopping not only did I completely forget to get my very necessary items for this week, I also gave myself a headache by the time I left the mall. Yes, I have a problem. I realize this. And in my super-oraganized-ness, I also have notes for when I'm able to go back (it's like Shopping Food For Thought):

- Vans ripoffs: High or low tops? $19.95
- Pointy black flats in matte or patent? $24.95
- Leggings with tall fake suede boots? $10, $39.95
- Skinny jeans?

Note that the skinny jeans also have problems fitting over MY FAT CALVES. No, it never ends.

I'm going to nurse my change-of-season cold and my post-shopping headache with the two oranges I took from the hotel lobby, some nasty ginseng tea, and a handful of echinacea pills. Happy October everyone.

2008-09-24T16:51:00.001-04:00

Here's To Hoping

Sitting by the waterfront with the sun on my back, the smell of fresh cut grass, and the sounds of boats and bugs. Hope life is this beautiful to you everyday.

2008-09-21T16:08:00.001-04:00

Me, Myself, And I'm Dreaming of The Trans-Siberian

The rest of my sojourn in far Eastern Ontario ended up being wonderfully lovely. Tuesday was a far better day with beautiful weather (and the thickest early morning fog I've ever seen) and only three school presentations, one of which was cancelled. I actually had the time to go to a little restaurant and sit down with a breakfast meal. I chitchatted with a man named David who has three jobs and doesn't drive a car and the too-sweet-to-be-true waitress later directed me to the local park where I literally said OMG out loud in my car when I drove up to it because OMG it was just that pretty. A tiny gazebo in the middle of a big pond anyone? I took a walk in my open-toed heels and then hit the road with my windows down, rocking out to my music.

Driving along CR-18, I wondered if Chris Brown's Forever with the bass cranked up was disturbing the local farmhouses when all of the sudden a ginormous church appeared on my left hand side. It was St. Raphael's church, gutted by fire and then restored so that only the stone walls and foundation stood. My heels clicked slightly on the stones and every step I took echoed. I walked out the door behind what would have been the altar and overlooked a cemetery and rolling hills. I heard nothing but the breeze. For a moment I was taken back to India, when I used to climb the stone steps to the little temple on top of the hill and just sit there gazing over the fields of Anaikatti, listening to the cows and the distant voices from the village. With my heart stilled, my breathing deepened, and my head clear(er), I took one last big breath and slowly got back into the car.

I spent the rest of my day in colonial Williamsburg, chatting with the local shopkeeper, walking around and then doing my second, and last, presentation of the day. The too-sweet-to-be-true guidance counsellor gave me tips on where I should spend the rest of my afternoon and so I went to Gale's and got butter tarts to die for, bought some gifts at Auld Kirktown and putzed around the little shops in Lancaster just like she suggested. By then it was about 2pm, so I took off across the border, braved Quebecois traffic and found my way to Montreal where I met friends for tea and dinner.

Also, tell me if this is weird: Wednesday night found me hanging out with my friend Dan's parents. I went to their house with wine, we chatted, they gave me a tour, we went out for dinner, they showed me their garden/dock/pontoon/homemade fish habitat, and then we had cake, tea and wine. Most of my co-workers and friends told me that it was weird that I was hanging out with a friend's parents, especially because we weren't dating (Dan and I are close, but he's already in a wonderful relationship), but that thought didn't really cross my mind at all. So what's weirder: me hanging out with them or me not thinking it was weird when everyone else did? OR is it going for a massage and having the masseuse tell you, "You have very nice body mmm," right after she just finished touching your bum and, "You have skin like the baby"? This scenario, fortunately, did not take place with Dan's parents or else yes, that would have been weird.

---

While cleaning my room yesterday afternoon (I know, as a twenty-something I never thought I'd ever have to do it again either, but you really should have seen the state it was in), I came across a sheet of paper from my last term in school that was titled, "My Immediate and Forthcoming Future." According to that piece of paper, my plans ended in August of 2008 when I wrote, sort out the rest of my life as a To Do item for the month. Man, for a person who lives out of a car/hotels and has a bedroom that looks like it threw up on itself, I'm pretty organized.

Welcome to mid-September of 2008, a time when, not only am I gainfully employed and being paid to work, I'm also being paid to live. Work covers accommodations, my rental car for two months, gas, a cell phone with long distance privileges, all food, and dry cleaning. They even covered the two bottles of wine I bought last week (as a gift for Dan's wine-loving parents). I've hit the jackpot. Too bad I have to give it all back in November. And with the end of my contract looming just a month and a half ahead of me, I can clearly see my plans running out from underneath me again.

But! As life has always been mostly kind to me, I'll probably have a fair chunk of money put aside that I can blow on further globe-trotting. This time, I'm looking towards lots of time spent on trains and exploring vast, vast landscapes....

2008-09-15T16:24:00.004-04:00

First Day On The Road

Let's just say that I learned a lot.

- Left the hotel at 6:30am to meet drizzle and gusting winds in my skirt and open-toed heels
- Had time to get gas before school #1 and be early! Whoo!
- Got caught in a fire drill at the end of my presentation.
- Principal allowed me to sneak back in to pack up
- Was late for three out of four school presentations
- Went 110 on some- er, most country roads marked 80
- Got good at fumbling with and reading directions, maps, and other pieces of paper while speeding
- Might have skidded onto the shoulder a few times...
- Definitely took the wrong road at one point and ended up waaay up there when I should have been waaay down here
- Had my first meal of the day (a small green apple) at 1pm while racing to school #3
- Had my first pee of the day at 2:45pm after presentation #4
- Had my second meal of the day (a banana) sitting in my car after school/presentation #4
- Number of turn arounds (U-ies and three-point turns): at least three.

Dear goodness I hope tomorrow is better.

For now: FOOD.

Update, 6:45pm
I have just returned from the wonderful little Italian restaurant across the street and am so full that I could pass out in the bath that I'm about to take. Also: Spumoni, how have I never eaten you before?!