Personal

Updates – and some quick and easy decadence!

1. Huge heartfelt thanks go out to everyone who wrote to me with their prayers and kind thoughts and words about my nan last week.  The good news is that this weekend, I had another email from my dad:

Nan is on board with the idea of being safe, looked after and worry-free when she comes out, wherever that may be.  I’ll be speaking to her doctor this week. I am trying to organise a family meet with everyone.  Nan is in good spirits.  I was making some calls this morning and saw a slip of paper with the name “Brenda” and a phone number. This is Nan’s sister, so I called her to let her know what was going on.  She didn’t know.  To cut a long story short, she is 83, has had a heart attack and a stroke.  She came up to the hospital today after the call to see Nan. Nan was so happy!  Aunt Leslie too, didn’t know and will be visiting.  I’m pleased with my progress and what I have achieved so far.  I hope you are proud of me.  I’m glad you blogged and got the replies and support you have.  I’ll keep you posted.
Love, Dad

It was a huge turnaround to have such strides made in only a few days. Family that hadn’t seen each other, or Nan, for years are reuniting at her time of need, and I can’t imagine how happy she must have been.  I’m not sure when the surgery has been rescheduled for, but it sounds like a lot of prayers have been answered, and positive vibes sent her way have arrived in spectacular fashion over the weekend, and I can’t thank you guys enough.

2. I also purchased a treadmill this weekend.  The elliptical I got off Kijiji ended up being totally useless; with the dial broken and providing no resistance at all, it just wasn’t working.  I might try and sell it again, but for now, I’ve switched to this baby, made sure it worked and was ADJUSTABLE first, and it’s settling in in my living room.  Hopefully this will be a little more exciting to use, while I’m watching Eastenders in the week, I’m hoping to make this part of my weekly routine.

3. Speaking of Eastenders, Sweet and I spent our Friday night watching the first ever live-filmed episode in celebration of the show’s 25th anniversary.  The documentary afterwards was ridiculously interesting, showing how they had to move the actors quickly and quietly between far-apart sets, and how they kept the biggest plot ever secret from the public AND the cast until the real “whodunit” was revealed on the live episode.  It was great to see something I grew up with uniting the country (16.6 million viewers!!), with celebs and old friends alike ALL over Twitter the whole way through.  Brilliant.

4. Yesterday I went to my first Blogger Meetup!  Unfortunately I could only stay for about 40 minutes, but I’m hoping we can all do it again sometime. 🙂

5. Many of you know that one of my new year’s resolutions was to try and cook actual recipes from scratch.  So far, Sweet and I have learned new cooking vocabulary, had adventures with exploding noodles, and spent way more time together actually engaging in something fun and productive, and last week, in a pre-Bachelor panic to find something we could make quickly, we scoured AllRecipes.com and found something that looked delightful.  Promising us dinner in twenty minutes, we set out to make this near-replica of something we’d fallen in love with on holiday last month: Fettuccine al Salmone.  Honestly? One of the most deliciously indulgent meals we’ve cooked to date, and done faster than you could get through a verse of On The Wings of Love.  I had to share!

2 tablespoons butter
10 ounces salmon, cut into thin strips
1 leek, sliced
1 red onion, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, crushed
3/4 cup light cream
3/4 cup sour cream
1/2 tablespoon cornstarch
2 tablespoons lemon zest
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon paprika
8 ounces dry fettuccine noodles
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the sliced
salmon, chopped leek, onion, and garlic, and fry until fragrant, about 2 minutes.

In a medium bowl, mix together the cream, sour cream, and cornstarch; stir into the skillet. Stir in the lemon zest (or lemon juice as we did), pepper, and paprika (which we also didn’t have, so we used cayenne pepper!). Cook, stirring constantly, for 10 minutes, until sauce is thickened and salmon flakes easily with a fork.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Add fettuccine (we used fettuccine with cracked black pepper in it already), and cook for 8 to 10 minutes or until al dente. Drain, and toss with the salmon sauce. Top with Parmesan cheese to serve.

OM NOM NOM! This was one of the most gourmet-tasting, quick and easy recipes we’ve made yet!  It was done in less than half an hour, perfect for those Monday nights when you may or may not have a 7:00 date with a certain pilot.  Bon appetit!

So Far Away

Back in December, I wrote a little about the situation with my Nan being in hospital back in England.  The situation was that she’d dislocated her shoulder a number of years ago, and the hospital cocked up the surgery, rendering her arm unusable forever.  She spent years trying to get by with the use of only one arm, and as she got older, started having these falls.  She lives by herself in a 2-storey house halfway across the planet, and my dad and I feel so useless.  Every day holds constant worry about her safety, and prayer for her protection. What would happen if she fell, and couldn’t get up to call anyone?  Well, in December, that happened.  She fell, injuring her other shoulder, and ended up in hospital right before Christmas.  My aunts and uncles weren’t in touch with her, my dad and I didn’t have their numbers, and she was alone, no visitors, until Christmas, when a good friend of mine went up on Christmas Day and absolutely made her day.

But the situation worsened.  Her blood pressure and potassium levels dropped drastically, so she was moved from the rehabilitation hospital into the general hospital – the one that had caused her disability in the first place.  They scheduled surgery on her other, functional (but injured) shoulder, for this past Monday, the day Sweet and I were away.  I worried the whole day, and returned to a phone call from my dad, saying over the weekend he’d heard from his stepsister that Nan had been pretty scared all weekend.  She was worried they were going to screw up her other shoulder – and if that happened, she’d never be able to look after herself again.  She was scared too because 13 years ago her husband had gone into hospital for surgery – and never came out.  And she was alone.

As my dad told me they’d postponed the surgery (her blood pressure was too low), I held my breath in a desperate effort to hold back the tears.  My Nan had basically raised me – as a child, my dad was working while my mum was in school, and I spent every day at her house, learning to bake, watching TV, making tea and crafts, and helping with her aviary full of budgies and quails.  I adored the little budgie we brought inside to keep, and Sparky lasted a good 8 years, every day calling out in Nan’s voice “cuppa tea, darling”, “where’s Emily”, and “who’s a good boy, boy, boy”.  So many years of joy were spent with my Nan, and it breaks my heart to think of her now, scared and alone in the world.

My dad decided to fly over to England.  He left yesterday, and I had an email this morning saying he’d arrived, and been to visit:

I have just come back from seeing Nan and, as you can imagine, she was overwhelmed.
She is not looking good and her memory is worse than last year but she is much the same as she was. She had some tears about dying and I had a very compassionate and serious conversation with her about coming out and maybe not being in the house. All very tearful but it ended very well.  More updates tomorrow.

Dad

My heart breaks at being stuck over there, completely useless to the woman who practically raised me and I love so dearly, in her time of need.  I’m glad my dad can be with her right now, and all I can do is pray for her.  That the surgery goes well and she comes out healed – but even if this is the case, she may still have falls, and the “talk” was one referring to the possibility of going into a care home.  If the surgery goes wrong like it did before, it would be the end of her ability to look after herself or do any of the things she takes joy in.  And the worst-case scenario – well, I can’t even bear to think about it.

If you could spare a moment today, for a thought or a prayer sent my Nan’s way, it would mean the world.  There’s only so much I can do from so far away, and right now I’m finding the situation pretty tough on top of my potential layoff in a few weeks.  I’m sorry to bring such a downer to your eyes this morning.  But you guys have always been here for me, and I thank you as ever for listening, and for your compassion.

Glee karaoke, pulled muscles and the best 24-hour trip ever!

I sit here after spending the last two days running on coffee and adrenaline, glad I took the rest of the day off – this past Valentine’s day weekend was an absolute whirlwind of adventure, but I’m glad to be back (and to not be flying anywhere else for a good little while!)!

The week leading up to V-day was pretty crazy.  The situation at work is – well, I’m still totally in limbo and there’s been no word on whether or not I’m staying yet, and as of right now, I heard we may not even know until the first week of March – which, if I wait to hear, means I have only three weeks to job search.  I don’t want to start early and have to worry about going to interviews while I’m still working and could very well be told I get to stay at my wonderful place – but at the same time, I don’t want to leave it too late and be unemployed at the end of my term if I’m not being kept on.  It’s pretty stressful there right now, but I’m holding onto the hope that whatever is meant to happen will, and praying that it’ll be revealed to me sooner rather than later. Sweet had a crazy week at work too, so by the time the weekend rolled around, we couldn’t be happier to be spending the long weekend relaxing and then heading off to TORONTO to see one o my favourite bands in the whole world!!

Saturday night we went to see Valentine’s Day, hoping it was going to be just as good as Love, Actually.  It wasn’t; it was kind of a ripoff, pretty pointless, but sappy enough to get us both in the spirit, and we came home and shared wine and Rock Band sing-offs until we fell asleep.  We awoke on Sunday morning to fresh snow, and spent the morning snuggling inside, cooking breakfast, and watching episodes of Glee.  Can somebody tell me why I only discovered this show now?!  We’re almost done the first season (so no spoilers!) and we’ve both been blown AWAY at how amazing it is.  It’s hilarious, wonderfully cast, and gives me more goosebumps than standing outside for more than thirty seconds, and we went straight out and bought the first volume of the soundtrack that afternoon.

We also had a kind-of couple’s massage – I’d apparently left it too late to book (I thought a week would be plenty of time!) so the couple’s room was fully booked, but we both went at the same time in separate rooms for some relaxation. Well, for him, anyway.  I took advantage of the fact that this massage therapist stopped halfway through to examine my spine and leg movements and diagnosed me with something that’s evaded countless doctors, chiropractors and therapists for years.  Because he’d had the same thing.  It’s been about ten years now of this pain becoming increasingly worse, and now chronic, and I’ve tried more stretches, exercises and tortuous methods in the hope of relief than I can even count.  He explained what he thought the problem was with complete certainty; something I’ve not seen in the vague and frantic diagnoses of other specialists who’ve been quick to get this anomaly out of their offices.  I’m going back weekly for the next month (exhausting my coverage for the year, but for some reason I totally trust this guy), so fingers crossed.  I left however with my hip flexor going into TOTAL spasm after being shown a stretch, and hobbled out in tears barely able to walk, but remaining hopeful!  At home, Sweet set me up with blankets and an ice pack, and after a few hours it calmed down enough for us to carry on with our Valentine’s day plans.

We exchanged gifts, and ended the night with a fancy dinner at The Keg. This past week I’d read a great deal of blog posts about how Valentine’s day isn’t a big deal for people, how people shouldn’t need a Hallmark holiday to tell people how they feel about them… but I think it’s a lovely holiday.  Even when I was single I took the opportunity to send cards to friends and family telling them how much they mean to me, and yes, people should do that throughout the year, but if Valentine’s is the one day some people do – then for one day, maybe the world can feel that much more love.  I feel naive and childish in feeling this way, in a world so quick to condemn February 14th as invented, saccharine, money-grabbing rubbish – but I see it as just one more day in the year when the world focuses on love instead of hate, and I count my blessings for having an amazing fiance, family, and friends like you reading this right now.

The night was wrapped up with packing, in eager anticipation for our early morning flight to Toronto!! I’d never been before, and luckily here in Winnipeg it was a holiday, and we were heading out to see the almighty Mumford and Sons. I’d come across them about a year ago, and ordered in their album from the UK as soon as it was released last year, and soon wrote a 5-star review of it for Frequency Magazine.  They were heart-wrenching, foot-stomping, banjo-picking masters of the poetic, and we couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see them live – even if it did mean red-eye flights and a couple of hundred dollars to get there.  My heart jumped a little when I saw they’d sold out, and at the singer’s surprised happiness to see everyone singing along, despite the album not yet being available in North America.  There was an excited, energetic buzz filling the room; they commanded the crowd dressed in vintage waistcoats, rotating instruments, and had the crowd jumping up and down pumping fists while on the edge of their seats two tracks later in awe at the raw passion, soul and mastery of lyricism in front of them.  It was nothing short of stunning, and I hope they get the worldwide recognition they deserve. And let’s hope so – today, they were talking about them on CBC Radio 2 (apparently the album is finally out this side of the pond!), and tonight, they’re going to be on The Late Show with David Letterman.  PVRs at the ready! 🙂

I uploaded the videos I caught last night here on my YouTube account 🙂 It was the perfect end to a wonderful day of exploring the city on foot, seeing old friends, enjoying a city so full of culture and singing our hearts out.  We went up the CN Tower (very scary!), checked out the CBC building, did a little shopping (nice hats?), ate amazing food and explored Chinatown.  Between getting back to the hotel at midnight and having to be up at 3:30 to walk to the nearest airport express bus stop we’d completely exhausted ourselves with adventure. This was such a great weekend 🙂

Current Inspiration: Marina Diamandis

A little while ago, I wrote my first OMG life wouldn’t be worth living if it weren’t for music like this post, and I mentioned one of the artists I was most looking forward to in 2010.  Her name is Marina Diamandis, currently going by Marina and the Diamonds, and I can unreservedly say she’s the freshest, most imaginative, intelligent female musician to hit the airwaves in a long time.  In today’s music scene, artists like the Fergie and Lady Gaga ascend to ridiculous levels of power through radio-friendly pop packages that talk of fashion and promiscuity (I love Gaga’s music videos and “stand up for the geeks” style, don’t get me wrong, but there’s only so much credit I can give someone whose hits include lines like ‘let’s have some fun, this beat is sick, I wanna take a ride on your disco stick’).  Marina stands out in a sea of scantily-clad, generic pop princesses with her smart lyrics, atypical style, creativity, and an enormous sense of who she is.  Her album isn’t out until the 22nd, but I’ve already pre-ordered a copy from the UK, and there are 3 tracks that make this one of my most anticipated albums in a very long time.

Her first single, Hollywood, is somewhat of a shocker; an infectious reflection on “the mess that is America” that’s hands-down the best single of 2010 so far.  On her blog, she states:

“I crave America. I always have, always will. I’m embarrassed to say it as it’s strange but I think about it every single day. It is equally fascinating as it is vile and alive as it is dead.  My first trip was in 2005 and really felt like I’d entered a bubble – nothing feels real.  It’s exhilarating and confusing. As much as it completes me, it empties me. Does anyone else feel like this? Americans reading this blog – how do you feel? What is it like living in America? Why am I so obsessed.. Why do I remain addicted..?”

The lyrics make me wonder how she’ll go down stateside, and evoke memories of perhaps one of the most misinterpreted songs to date – Born in the USA was writtten to cast a shameful eye on how America treated its Vietnam veterans, yet to this day, Springsteen fans chant it as a patriotic song about American pride.  Take a look: Marina’s lyrics in her debut single are about as ballsy as they come.

American queen is the American dream
American queen is the American dream

She is a Polish girl in America
Tall, tanned hot blonde called Anya
I asked her “Why would you want to be a Hollywood wife?”
“Because I don’t wanna end up living in a dive on Vine”
Air hostesses doing gossip magazine crosswords on a flight to old LA
39 years old with a mile-high sheen
Trying to stimulate a mind that is slowly starting to decay

Hollywood infected your brain
You wanted kissing in the rain
Living in a movie scene
Puking American dreams
I’m obsessed with the mess that’s America
I’m obsessed with the mess that’s America

She continues to promote anti-conformity with a second track, I Am Not A Robot.

You’ve been acting awful tough lately
Smoking a lot of cigarettes lately
But inside, you’re just a little baby
It’s okay to say you’ve got a weak spot
You don’t always have to be on top
Better to be hated than loved, loved, loved for what you’re not

Guess what? I’m not a robot, a robot
Guess what? I’m not a robot, a robot

But my favourite track so far has to be the primal Mowgli’s Road, an eccentric number whose tribal beats and Kate Bush-esque vocals combine to reflect the lyrics perfectly.  It’s quirky and indie, yet catchy enough to hit mainstream radio, and unlike anything else in the charts today.

Ten silver spoons coming after me
One life with one dream on repeat
I’ll escape if I try hard enough
‘Til King of the Jungle calls my bluff

Oh Lord
I have been sold
I must take the unforsaken road
There’s a fork in the road
I’ll do as as I am told
And I don’t know, don’t know, don’t know, don’t know
Who I want to be

The lyrics may say otherwise, but I don’t know if I’ve seen anyone quite so sure of who she is, and what she wants to stand up for.  Crank this one up and try not to be sucked in.

Don’t judge a book by… oh, bugger it, go ahead!

Some of you might remember when I got back from the Dominican, I mentioned a couple of interesting characters that popped up alarmingly frequently during the trip.  We first met Louie and Peter on the bus from the airport to the resort.  They sat separately, but both wore Large Gentleman On Vacation Hawaiian shirts and hats.  We sat behind Louie, who kept looking back and making obnoxious comments and asking far too often “where the rum was”.  It was dark, and we couldn’t tell if he was addressing us, or someone at the back, so we found ourselves with tightly-grasped hands, smiling and nodding through gritted teeth.   Whoever this bozo was, hopefully he was being dropped off at the next resort.

The first morning there, we attended our “briefing” meeting with the rep, who told us all sorts of helpful things about booking tours through her (which we ignored), where to go, and when to check the binder on our last day to see when our bus was coming.  It was about 10:00, and we sat, with another couple behind us… and a couple of loud oafs in front.  When we heard the Chris Griffin-esque whiny voice complaining and asking what time the bar opened, we looked at each other in panic.  Louie was here to stay, and he disappeared for a few minutes, returning with two drinks firmly in hands, making the meeting start a full half hour late.

Sweet and I had quite the game of “Name That Oaf” on the first day, making observations about where they could possibly work, if they were together, why were two mid-fifties gentlemen out on their own in the middle of the Caribbean pretending not to be together anyway, and what their names might be.  We decided on “Roy and Norm”, before we were introduced, the second night in, when we found ourselves seated at the table elbow-widths away at dinner.  I’d gone to the loo, and Sweet and I spent the first half of dinner making faces and grinning at each other as we listened to obnoxious inanity – and I returned to a grinning Sweet, who introduced me on first-name basis, which not only put my poker face to the test, but made it lock itself in a room and replace all meals, sleep and social activity with a pile of Cole’s notes.  It was too funny to be happening.

Days in, they kept popping up here and there, maybe the funniest of which was when I was popping upstairs for some sunscreen, and I saw two older blokes racing toward the resort on scooters, slowing right down to go over the sleeping policemen – bump, bump – and whizzing off up to the hotel.

On our last day, we were all packed and had, as per the rep’s instructions, checked the binder to see when we were being picked up.  7:15 pm, it said, so we packed up in the morning, relaxed by the pool, had some lunch, showered and were getting ready for dinner at about 5 when we had a phone call.  “It’s 5:00 and you’re still in the room!” a curt female voice informed me.  “You know you’re going to have to pay a $50 late checkout fee.” Click. Sweet and I didn’t know about checkout times – he’s never travelled, and my last few trips have involved staying at company villas, Hollywood sailboats, and relatives’ homes in the UK.  We went down, and she insisted the rep had told us in our meeting, which she hadn’t.  She got her on the phone, and she talked to the manager, insisting she had, and the phone was just about to be passed to me when I saw, out of the corner of my eye, our two resident oafs by the pool, talking to a lady half their age.  I ran over, and told Louie the situation.  “Of course she didn’t tell us! We had to go and ask two days ago!” Proof! Glorious, unexpected proof from our resident entertainment.  When we next spoke, we had a note put in The Book.  Louie walked past us and whispered “raise hell”. We didn’t have to pay.

We later went back to the poolside to thank him for saving the day, when he left us with his words of wisdom: “The squeaky wheel always gets the oil, folks!” We looked at each other, baffled for a second, while he went to get another drink.  Did he just tell us that the more of a pain in the ass you are, the more likely you’ll get what you want?  We couldn’t help but laugh – this was clearly his motto in life, and despite the exterior loutish behaviour, he’d done pretty well for himself.  We smiled, and asked him where he was headed home. “Toronto,” he told us.  “But there’s been a lot of snow this week, and we have a lot of Asian and BROWN people who don’t know how to drive in the snow; they’re going to make the roads hell.”  And off he went, leaving our jaws planted and rooting firmly on the floor.  The moral of the story? Even if you do judge a book by its cover, it can still enclose a pleasant surprise.  But it’ll probably end up being a jerk anyway!

It’s times like these when I desperately want to learn and explore more about the world of physiognomy – something I learned about in literature years ago, the study of what people’s physical face structure and external appearance says about them as a person. To judge a book by its cover based on exterior observation – or to dig deeper? Even after dear Louie, I still like to explore and be surprised.  Seeing Susan Boyle first open her mouth and sing so beautifully, putting all pre-judgers firmly in their place, was enough to move me to tears.  And I love when people are surprised when they first get to know me that I have tattoos, love all things sci-fi and nerdy, and listen to Scandinavian power metal as a guilty pleasure.  People can often surprise you in wonderful and interesting ways –  but I find, just as often, end up being exactly how you imagined.  What are your thoughts on first impressions?

Human-alien hybrids changed my life

“So you just figured you’d come here, to the most hostile environment known to man, with no training of any kind, and see how it went? What was going through your head?”

“Maybe I was sick of doctors telling me what I couldn’t do.”

This weekend, two months later than the rest of the masses, Sweet and I went to see Avatar.  I’d heard so many amazing things, but we don’t tend to get out to the flicks very often (especially in winter; braving -30 on a Friday night isn’t always our first pick after a busy week), but this week, we decided on a date night of dinner and a movie (followed by late night rock band karaoke, could a girl ask for more?).  And I was STUNNED.

One of the first pieces of dialogue in the movie, there, made me instantly question its relevance to my life.  (Well maybe not instantly, I was initially preoccupied figuring out how to keep 3D glasses on my face over the top of my normal ones, and thoughts of how science was not only correcting my vision but allowing me to see 2D as 3D at the same time.  I’m a nerd, I know.)  The protagonist is an uneducated, physically disabled man who goes on to stand up against evil and save the world.  Seconds after I heard the on-screen exchange, I felt… empowered.  Motivated.  Determined, not only to keep taking small steps to my ongoing goal of overcoming anxiety, but blowing it out of the water – taking a giant leap out of my comfort zone and surprising everybody, most of all myself.

It’s been six months since I made the decision to stop living trapped by a fear that had taken over my life for so long.  I look back on the words in this post in astonishment at the fact that it was only six months ago when I decided I wanted to break free.  I recognised that I had a choice in how I lived my life; I could see what I wanted, but I was choosing to live it differently.  There was a discrepancy between what I dreamed of and held important… and what I was actually doing.  So I made the decision to change everything, and it’s been a journey of small steps, but always choosing to take the risk into new territory in the face of fear, bluffing my way through it… and getting incredible feedback.  Evaluation forms in my classroom full of “strongly agrees”, and this Friday, when I was put in a literal “fishbowl” on the spot in a training room full of staff to demonstrate what I’d learned over the week, inside I was shaking – but I chose to go first.

And as well as some incredible feedback, I got a round of applause! These small victories have kept me going – checking things off lists, practicing with increasingly difficult situations, and getting through them okay – I have an incredible sense of momentum, and I can’t wait for the day I can not only speak in front of a large group without my cheeks flushing or my heart racing, but the day I’m fuelled by the adrenaline and self-belief to actually want to do it.

The quote from the movie really made me think.  It’s taken six months to get to where I am now, but I still have a long way to go.  Every time I’ve pushed myself along the way, chosen to take a step – my initial worries were blown away by positive feedback; success.  I still get nervous – but I don’t let it stop me any more.  I’m no longer held back on the outside – I just want to be totally free on the inside, too.  My outlook has changed enormously – and I realise that the power of choice, making the decision and actively following through has been invaluable.  So if I’ve done okay in my little steps – what if I took a leap? Instead of following my PowerPoint to the letter next class, what if I threw things in on the spot? Games, jokes… and delivered with passion, positivity, and total confidence? It’s the people who can do that effortlessly that inspire me, because they can use it to make such a difference in people’s lives.  And, for the time being, at least – I’m in a position where I could potentially do that.

Found on Caro's blog

Avatar was not only visually stunning, incredibly written, and moved me to tears – but those first few words fuelled me with a desire to reach the finish line.  I’m going to choose to trust those little victories and take a risk next time I get up there.  I’m going to speak up, make people laugh, and really try be a positive influence in my little corner of the world.  Not for myself, but for the hope I might make a difference if I do.  I’m faced with the same choice I was back in July, just on a slightly larger scale.  I see how I’m choosing to live, choosing to let the nerves and anxiety sometimes get the better of me before I get up in front of people, resulting in an impression of a girl who’s uncertain and scared… I’m choosing to appear nervous, and I have the choice not to.  I think now, it’s time to take another risk.  What’s “going through my head”, as the movie said?

Maybe I’m sick of thinking of the things I can’t do.  I’m going to show the world I can.

Celebration!

February’s pretty much one of the coldest, most awful times of the year here in Winnipeg.  You get the post-Christmas “mild” spell, when it’ll go up to -10 and everybody will walk around without coats, secretly hoping that this time it’s going to carry us through right until summer – and then February hits, along with our annual Festival du Voyageur, a time I associate with dashing into the nearest shop to warm up for five minutes and possibly by something further to wrap around your face to stop it falling off, because it inevitably ends up being minus fifty!  This February – well, so far, however – has felt kind of different.

Kind of… happier.

Kind of… full of reasons to celebrate.

On February 1st, my best friend declared it was a day of celebration.  She and her Mister had five whole years of being with each other to celebrate – an amazing couple, a wonderful friend, and definitely worth a big smile.  Then came my first day back from holiday.  I was greeted with hugs from coworkers, and little cupcakes to celebrate the ‘month of love’ – followed by a devotional on what love really means to each of us.  Then came the birthdays.  Actually, we’re still on Feb. 1st here – the ever-wonderful Brittney who I love to bits turned 27, and it was definitely a day to celebrate her and all the wonderful things she is.

The rest of the month is full of birthdays of dear friends, and Valentine’s day – a day to really celebrate this life-changing, soul-destined, wonderful love I’ve been blessed with – especially since six years ago, it could easily have never come back again.  To celebrate and be thankful for the man who’ll happily cook, clean, watch Eastenders, and show up with gifts and flowers if I’m having a hard day.

But there’s one person in all of this who has a very important birthday.  I’m not sure exactly which day it is, because she wasn’t with me until a couple of months after birth… but this February, Miss Rose Kitten is turning four!

Sorry Britt - Baily pwns Rose at dress-up, a fake hat had to do 🙂

LOOK AT HOW LITTLE SHE WAS!  And so confused…  🙂  This little cat has brought SO much joy into my life – she’s developed such a personality, likes to talk, play football, and cuddle (but only on her dad’s “fat lap”). And she’s named after a Doctor Who character.  I cherish her dearly, and I couldn’t imagine life without her – happy birthday to the sweetest little cat in the world!

What are you celebrating this month, or what’s bringing a smile to  your face these cold winter days? (A big thank you to all of you for bringing one to mine on Wednesday, too – you guys are awesome.)

In limbo, and slightly scared

Some of you know I work in a job a really love.  I started as receptionist and within a few months was promoted to my current position – this place gets major points for always wanting to recognise somebody’s strengths, and put them in a role that allows them to thrive.  Since July, I’ve been in a position where I’ve been responsible for designing all external advertising, writing copy, organising videos and even doing radio voiceovers (shudder, lol) – as well as being moved to a roomy, big-windowed office shared with three other wonderful ladies who’ve become close friends.  We motivate each other, encourage each other to reach our goals, we’ve held lunch hours together doing yoga, or cuddled around a table watching Britain’s The Apprentice sharing sushi.  I love it there, and I’m so blessed to have been given opportunity after opportunity to challenge myself and grow – if I hadn’t, I honestly think I’d still be battling every day with my anxiety.

It’s been wonderful, and I’d like nothing more than to stay there as long as I could.  But we’re a non-profit, funded by the government on an annual basis – each year the proposal goes in with better stats and results than the last year, and we get funding for another year.  It’s been renewed every year since 1996, and this year we wrapped up a huge three-year research study with incredible results – it’s been a record-breaking year in helping people find employment.

The position I’m in right now was always a term position.  A mat leave ending in March, with the plan, at the time, to go back to reception should nothing else open up by April 1st.  In December, my boss and I had a conversation.  About how I had a heck of a lot more to offer and didn’t want to go back.  I wanted to contribute – I wanted to grow, and I wanted to keep helping the organization with the skills I’d developed in the role.  I asked the question: should I be looking for other employment?

My boss assured me I’d be fine – they’d put a proposal in for another two positions to open up, both of which I’d be frontrunner for, and “if she should I should be looking, she’d tell me.”  And she didn’t.  I went on Christmas break and recent holiday worry-free, assured that by late January we’d have a good idea if we’d have the budget to keep me (which we probably would) – it was just a matter of getting the proposal approved by the government.  On my first day back this week, I was greeted with hugs, cupcakes – and an email from my boss telling me the advertising budget had been cut.  Not great – but this meant we knew something about the budget!!! I went to her office to talk about the further updates on the likelihood of my staying…. and it wasn’t good.

They still didn’t know.  Budgets in other departments were being cut as well as mine, and we still didn’t know if the two positions I’d be “perfect for” would even be approved.  We’ll know for sure before March 31st – the day my position ends.  If we’re not getting approval…. I kind of feel like I should be using this time to look elsewhere, as much as it breaks my heart to do so – because one day is not realistic to find employment. I was also told that should we get approval, the new positions would have to go through an external approval process and a certain amount of paperwork… which would mean the start date  may not be possible for April 1, it could be May or June.

My boss hammered in the fact that she doesn’t want me to go.  But also her understanding that I had to be realistic.  So right now, folks, I’m in limbo.  Do I hold out hope that everything will work out in the next six weeks, hang tight and not send out any resumes? Do I start applying at places right away, because it could very well take me a month to find something if the worst comes to the worst? Or do I take the opportunity to go back to school – screwing over our wedding budget, and putting all living/wedding expenses solely on Sweet’s (very generous and willing) shoulders? I don’t think I could do it – not even considering the fact that our wedding would be exam week.

I’m torn.  I desperately want to stay – and best case scenario, we get approval, and it’s a couple of months before I can go back and start.  That’s doable – I can go on EI for a month or two to get by, or skimp a bit for a little while – Sweet’s been incredible, and I’m blessed to have someone so willing to support me and help me out – but I’m one of those people who needs a plan.  A concrete plan she can follow along where everything happens just as it should.  I hate being in limbo.  And right now, I have no idea what I should do.

A three-week check-in (with video!), and a fond farewell

Before I head off for a week full of indulgence in the Caribbean (! – I still can’t quite believe it myself), I figured it’d be a good idea to do a little check-in and see how I was doing on keeping those resolutions I made for the new year.  This is the first time I’ve ever formally set out a list of tangible goals for a year, and actually had anyone to really keep me on track – your encouragement, as well as the support of friends, family, and coworkers has made an enormous difference, and really motivates me to succeed in sticking to my resolutions.  Unkept resolutions usually become that way as a result of one day’s worth of declarations, and several weeks of disregard.  Unacknowledged resolutions have zero potential to be accomplished, and I’ve found that having a support system, as well as a changing of habits and schedules, makes an enormous difference in dedication and achievement.  Since 1st January, I’ve added a couple more resolutions to the list – so I figure now’s a good time to share them, and also to see how I’ve done for the last two weeks! 

1. Reading. I vowed to read one book per month (a seemingly rather tiny goal in comparison to some of the resolutions I’ve seen, but a long way from my two books of 2009!), and for the last fortnight I’ve made the effort every couple of days to set aside some time before bed – I’ve been going upstairs an hour or so earlier, curling up and reading a wonderful book.  I’m rediscovering my lifelong love of literature, and I feel there’ll be no problem at all if I keep to my altered schedule.

2. Cooking. Sweet seems to have undertaken this little resolution as well, and recently, we’ve had quite the culinary adventures.  We started with the avocado creamed chicken and baked parsnips, and after unintentionally overdoing it on cream and butter, have pulled out the Kitchen Bible his sister got us for Christmas.  It’s full of tonnes of recipes from all around the world, and even has little pictures of what it’s supposed to look like, which keeps things easy.  We’ve made tuna-pasta bakes (and, in comic misunderstanding, set our mouths on fire when two whole chilli peppers were crushed onto MY PLATE rather than being mixed into the whole 8-serving-dish); a delicious and ridiculously easy Italian dish full of spices, asparagus and sundried tomatoes (who knew buying them in oil made such a difference?); Chicken Jalfrezi, and an Asian beef concoction full of experiments (cooking vermicelli noodles are the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen – here’s a video of Sweet’s initial attempt, taken while preparing for a house fire!).  I’ve learned different ways of preparing food, and the best part, in addition to actually being able to see exactly what you’re consuming, is spending an hour in the kitchen actually doing something together instead of blobbing in front of the TV.

As for the daytime; I’ve switched my breakfast to a regular morning helping of All Bran Strawberry Bites.  It’s very healthy, and the strawberry part’s on the inside, not those horrible freeze-dried flakey bits of fruit they use in other cereals, so it actually tastes nice too.  I make sure I have a big glass of water before I head out as well as the coffee, to balance out the hydration, and I’ve started keeping bulk packs of water bottles under my desk, as well as a bag of apples.  It’s a wonder I didn’t get scurvy in 2009, but this year, as well as cooking more, I’m vowing to eat more healthily all day long, too.

3.  Kicking the anxiety. I found myself toward the end of the Christmas holidays starting to worry about going back to work, about if I’d forgotten things, about getting back into routine, about doing a good job and of course, about standing up and teaching my little class again.  So much so that on the day before work I lay awake for hours, my closed eyes’ attempts at slumber sabotaged by my mind’s constant looping of thoughts and concerns, and was barely able to function the next day.  But Friday rolled around, and after a week of getting back into a schedule, I went into work with a skip in my step.  It was Teaching Day, and instead of worrying, I told myself I can do it, and I’m actually looking forward to it.  I’ve been doing it for a few months now, and have become more comfortable with my material, and if I think about it as helping people; giving them needed information, as opposed to the old “all eyes ore on me and everybody wants me to fail” mentality I struggled to escape, I found myself floating through the morning.  My heart rested as normal, comfortable in its pace, and not beating up a storm trying to escape my chest.  Doing a 180 of your thought pattern is a tough thing, but as with my other resolutions, it’s all about changing habits.  It’s working so far – now to keep at it, aim for bigger classes, less prep, and even applying it to other areas of my life.  (Body image, anyone?)

4. Losing the back pain.  Unfortunately, I haven’t. I’m still in horrible amounts of pain all day long, but I’m actually sticking to a schedule here, too – a daily schedule, with (somewhat excruciating) strengthening exercises to help support myself using muscles I haven’t used in ten years, modified situps in an attempt at some sort of toning, and, thank you Kijiji, I bought a second hand little elliptical machine for my living room I plan on using three times a week.  (Which also ties in to my added resolution of fitness).

5. Learning to drive.  It’s still winter.  All sorts of treachery lie on those roads.  This one I can hold off until spring.

6. My other added resolution: sing again! I used to sing in a punk rock band and have no nerves or qualms about performing to crowds.  It was full of adrenaline, excitement, and being that in control of music that rocked was the best feeling ever.  Since I lost my confidence, singing plummeted to the very bottom of the things I wanted to do – but I always secretly loved to belt out the Wicked soundtrack whenever nobody was home.  So I bought a couple of karaoke games for the Wii, and Sweet and I have been taking turns rocking out, which is surprisingly AMAZING amounts of fun.  I told my dear coworker about them – and she confessed she had the same goal!  We’re going to keep each other on track, and hopefully at some point this year, actually go do karaoke.  In front of strangers.  Or maybe I’ll just pull a Jenn, and serenade you over the small screen – at least that way I’m less likely to fall over in a fret of nerves.

So my dears, I think I’m doing okay! How are you doing with your resolutions?  Tell me all about it, and I can’t wait to hear when I get back.  While I’m away I’ll be leaving you in some very capable hands (all of whom I adore dearly) – much love to all of you, and thoughts/prayers against missing luggage would all be very much appreciated while I’m gone. 🙂

Also – everyone who stopped by to comment on my second entry in the Weddingbells finals is a total rock star.  Seeing all your comments pretty much made my day on Monday and I’m so lucky to have you all in my life.

See you on the other side, lovelies!

Playing to your Strengths vs. Proving Yourself

I’m really lucky to work in an office with three lovely ladies I get along with so well.  We chat, we vent, we motivate each other with our goals and we get together at lunchtime to watch British TV on our computers.  They’ve become great friends, and yesterday, I was chatting with one of them about the idea of playing to your strengths versus feeling the need to prove yourself. 

Our organization is really great for putting people in roles they’re best suited for; I quickly moved into a position where I’m in charge of creating and booking all advertising and marketing material, as well as doing a fair bit of writing, whether for radio scripts, our website or people’s resumes.  I enjoy all these tasks, and after our “achieve your dreams” –themed retreat last year, I told my boss I wanted to challenge myself and start teaching.  

My wish was granted – the thought absolutely terrified me, but I was on a mission to overcome my anxiety and push myself out of my comfort zone.  I wanted to get my confidence back and stop being afraid.  So I was given one class every week.  These people saw past the fear and doubt and trusted me to develop a curriculum and actually deliver the information to people.  I’ve been doing it for a few months now, and yes, it’s become easier – I no longer get butterflies if I have to speak up in a meeting, and I can go into my little classroom and feel comfortable presenting my information, because I’ve had practice, and I remind myself I’m here to help these people.  I’m leaps and bounds from where I was, and I’m incredibly grateful to have been given the opportunity to grow. 

But yesterday I came to a realisation.  I had to give a presentation to a much larger group – and not just students, but other service providers.  Really Important People from across the province were coming to learn about what we did, and it was my job to represent us well.  I totally freaked out.  There were going to be twice the number of people I was used to, and the information wasn’t something I knew inside and out.  They weren’t coming in wearing jeans and hoodies, they were coming in wearing suits, armed with sophisticated haircuts and business cards.  This wasn’t my own little room, it was a big intimidating boardroom.  I was so far out of my comfort zone I panicked – and ended up asking someone else to do it.  For the first time in months I hit something too difficult.  All I’ve done so far in overcoming my anxiety has been little steps; small victories that have left me feeling that little bit more confident.  But this I couldn’t do.  

My current position is a term one that’s supposed to end in March, and the original plan was for me to go back to reception.  My thoughts: not going to happen.  Not to toot my own horn, but I can do a heck of a lot more than answer phones and make photocopies.  On top of the issue with the ergonomic factors and the back stuff I need to do throughout the day, I can’t do it.  So a few weeks ago, my wonderful boss and I had a little chat about The Future, and she told me, as long as we get funding (we’re a government-funded non-profit), there will most likely be a new position I can go into, involving all the same advertising and marketing stuff I’m doing now, as well as “more facilitation”. 

Yesterday, this got to me.  I’m incredibly grateful for everything they’ve done for me here, and I feel like since I asked for the opportunity to facilitate in the first place, I couldn’t really say I couldn’t do it.  They’re making a whole new position for me!  What sort of ungrateful cow would I be if I said I couldn’t do it?!  But I got thinking about the idea of putting people in roles that play to their strengths.  I’ve tried teaching, and though I’ve got a little bit better, it’s definitely not a strength.  I don’t think I’ll ever develop a love for being in the spotlight in front of people, and I don’t want to go to a job stressing out and being afraid to step into a classroom every day.  The experience has helped me immensely in terms of becoming more confident and less afraid, but it’s not a strength.  My strengths are in behind-the-scenes stuff.  I’m quietly opinionated and creative.  I love to write, and I love to design.  I could type for England.  I thrive in the sort of role I have now.  But I had to decide what was more important to me – proving to myself and the company that I was fully capable of being a facilitator (and forever being uncomfortable), or playing to my strengths?  

They say if you put someone in a position that doesn’t involve an inherent strength, they can learn – but they’ll never do as well as somebody who’s naturally good at it.  But if you put that person in a position that plays to their natural talents, they’ll excel.  A few months ago I heard this, and started questioning why I wanted to facilitate in the first place.  I think it was to put myself out of my comfort zone, and prove to myself I could do something I wanted to be able to so badly.  But it hasn’t developed into something I’m good at, and yesterday, my coworker and I were chatting about the importance of playing to your strengths versus proving yourself.

I started to worry, and had to email my boss asking what was meant by “more” facilitation.  What if it meant more people? Bigger classes, bigger chances to fail??  Maybe it meant “more often”.  I could deal with that – small groups, a few more times in the week would be okay.  I went home worrying about what I’d got myself into, and arrived back at the office in the morning to find an email from my boss. 

“Facilitation would be a small part of the position – and it would just be more small groups similar to what you’re doing now.  Don’t even THINK about work on your vacation!!!!”

So it looks like I’m going to get to keep the majority of my position – and the scary part doesn’t seem quite so scary after all.  If anything, it’s another small step in moving forward.  And it’s just the relief I needed before heading off next week.

Needles, hammers, and a pretty big countdown…

After the whirlwind of the holidays, the new year, and struggling to drag myself back into a normal routine of early mornings and pressed trousers, this weekend was relatively low-key.  Friday night brought yummy dinners, drinks and home-karaoke with our recent Rock Band 2 score (which is such fun, it’s surprisingly alleviating any nervousness about singing!) but not before visiting the clinic to get our shots – because in ten days, Sweet and I will be jet-setting off on our first trip alone together, for a WEEK IN THE CARIBBEAN.  We booked this trip back in July, and it’s always felt so far away we hadn’t really thought about it, and what with Christmas we just sort of forgot about it until this week, when it hit us that it was less than a fortnight away.  Clinic Lady tried to sell us all sorts of add-ons – tetanus, measles (in case it didn’t work right the first time round), and special triple-the-price insect repellent, but we settled for our Hep. As and went on our merry way, with sore arms (and sore wallets) for the rest of the weekend.

Saturday was my nan’s 81st birthday, and she is still in hospital after being there just about a month – we’d spoken to her over Christmas, and my dad had managed since to get in touch with a family member she (or I) hadn’t seen in about twenty years.  It turns out she’d had no idea nan was in hospital, and when we rang on Saturday to wish her happy birthday, it turned out she’d gone up for the day to visit, armed with flowers, new clothes, slippers and well-wishes.  You could just hear delight in her voice, and especially once she talked to Sweet, too – she sounded happier than I’d heard her in a long time, and it made me feel so incredibly comforted and reassured that she was in fact doing okay.  Her assessments are this week, so we’ll find out whether she’ll be able to go home or not, and if she’ll be able to get a home care worker to help out – so fingers crossed very tightly indeed.

Sunday was all errands and chores, but fun ones – I decided I resented the fact that I had too many clothes and too little storage space, and the same for books – my current bookcase (which I’ve had for close to ten years, now!) has started buckling at the shelves with all the books squeezed in to every available space, and little piles have started forming elsewhere in the house.  So we went out and bought solutions to both problems, and the evening was spent full of carpentry endeavours.  Exhausting, but entirely rewarding!

And so the week begins – a week full of catching up with loved ones, my first wedding dress fitting (am I allowed to squee yet?), movies (we still haven’t seen Avatar!) and lots of running around at the city’s annual big wedding explosion at the Convention Centre next weekend. I’m sure it’ll all be over before I know it!   Happy Monday, everybody – how was your weekend?

Music is my boyfriend, music’s my imaginary friend…

Anyone close to me knows that music is a huge part of my life, and it dawned on me the other day that it’s something I hardly ever write about.  Once in a while I might have a little rant about the state of popular music today *waves cane* but otherwise, I’ve noticed I tend to refrain from exclaiming over the joys of whatever happens to be filling my ears.  I think that’s probably because I’ve stayed faithful to the homeland – my days are filled with BBC radio, NME recommendations, and anything sung by anybody from Wales.  Sadly, this hardly makes for relatable conversation – but I felt it was about time I indulged and wrote about one of the things I love most in this world, and hopefully got some feedback (or better, recommendations!).

There were a number of albums over the last couple of years I’d heard a few tracks from, and then promptly pre-ordered from overseas, feeling like an excitable child on Christmas morning when they arrived in the post, jumping around and rushing to put them in the DVD player.  (Surprisingly, I don’t own a stereo.)  One of them happened to be an eagerly anticipated release from my favourite band in the whole world, Muse (who by horrible misfortune happen to be coming to every other place in Canada but Winnipeg – Leanne, Sean, Amber, Hillary… I’m looking at you for vicarious living opportunities!).

I’d discovered them by mistake six or seven years ago when I happened to be dating a radio DJ who got lots of sample CDs in the mail to potentially play on his show. He’d been sent a Vanessa Carlton CD, which obviously wasn’t going on the air, but we pulled it out one evening for a laugh, and it just so happened to be completely the wrong disc inside – instead, it was a copy of Time Is Running Out.  We gave it a listen, and then put it right back on again.  Wavering falsettos, smart lyrics, an incredibly funky bassline and a totally anthemic chorus reminiscent of early Radiohead had us hooked – so I promptly bought (my) first Muse album, Absolution.  Releases over the next six years were consistently brilliant, though their penultimate-to-date verged into new territory – and to be honest, I felt like I did when Radiohead pulled out Hail to the Thief.  But after seeing them live at Wembley in the most heart-stopping performance (to a crowd of >70,000) I’ve ever seen, I was still excited about The Resistance.  And it just so happened to be their best and most impressive record yet.  It’s a pow­er­ful, political, intelligent, and overall stunning epic, and I struggle to find another band even close to being in the same league in terms of creativity, boldness and sheer imagination.  And the first single sounded like the Dr. Who theme, which in my opinion, only means bonus points.

Another incredible album 2009 brought to my door was the wonderful Sigh No More by Mumford and Sons (take a listen!), a small English band who I’m flying out to Toronto to see in February (!), but who, puzzlingly, have seemingly failed to make north American frequencies.  I’m not one for folky, country-type stuff at all – I’m a total indie kid with a love of anything Brit-rock or new wave – but this was unlike anything I’d ever heard.   It’s a perfect balance of heart-wrenching, goosebump-inducing, earnest longing with a heavy dose of bluegrass and roots, dominated by thumping kick drums and a killer banjo (yes, really) that had me cranking my speakers and jumping around the living room. It’s an extraordinary debut; a stunning combination of the expertly crafted upbeats and raw, emotionally ripping passion, each song fully able to stand alone as a fabulously crafted masterpiece.

Toward the end of the year, through lucky chance and impeccable timing, two relatively new artists were brought to my ears.  Patrick Wolf’s Damaris played on national radio, prompting me to find a copy of the album, The Bachelor, immediately.  It wasn’t too long before I did, and it’s quite honestly the strangest and most wonderfully artistic thing I’ve heard in a very long time.  It’s the only place I’ve ever found such abundant strings and choirs juxtaposed with electronic beats and a voice that is at the same time as much ‘80s new wave as it is medieval minstrel.  For a girl who studied medieval history and English literature, and who loves nothing more than to play old Human League EPs on vinyl, it was the stuff dreams were made of.  It’s epic, intelligent, dark and beautiful, and its disjointed, individually ill-fitting tracks coalesce to craft an unexpectedly fluid, and altogether elegant whole.  This man is an artistic genius – and I can’t wait for part two of this release to  hit shops later this year.

And lastly, an artist whose album is as of yet unreleased – Marina and the Diamonds.  I caught one of her (their?) tracks while listening to the BBC a few weeks ago, and instantly thought of Kate Bush.  From what I know, she’s a 50% Greek, 50% Welsh, and 100% very cool singer-songwriter armed with keyboards, retro auras and bucketloads of talent.  The tracks I’ve heard so far – ‘I Am Not a Robot’, ‘Seventeen’ and the wonderful ‘Mowgli’s Road’ (do it…) are unlike anything else being produced in the world of pop music today.   They’re catchy enough to be on mainstream radio, but are edgy, slightly bizarre, and as evocative of early Kate Bush enough to hook the indiest of indie kids.  The album’s supposedly out in a couple of months – and I can’t wait.

Hope you didn’t mind my sharing – but these guys are the best thing to hit my radar in the last little while, and I think they deserve a bit of praise spread across the internet, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I am!

Who’s rocking your world these days?

Home is, finally, where the heart is

Last night, in keeping with one of my resolutions for the year, instead of watching TV, cleaning (!) or surfing the net, I pulled out a book and decided to spend a couple of hours reading.  I’d forgotten how much I really loved it, and have a sneaky feeling I’m going to hit my “book a month” goal easily!  But while I lay there on the sofa, I took the opportunity to actually look around my living room.  And I pondered the question: what impression do people get when they come to visit? What does this space say about me?

Growing up, my parents always decorated beautifully.  Harmonious colour combinations, and funky Ikea bookcases mixed in with some beautiful mahogany furniture; huge art prints in gorgeous frames, ornaments and sculptures collected from various world travels, and room renovations like you wouldn’t believe.  Seriously – I remember them knocking down walls to make an enormous bathroom, with cork flooring, snazzy oversized tiles on the walls, textured wallpaper and corner cupboards (and a bathtub) with wood stained the deepest of turquoises.  I loved living somewhere with so much thought put into its presentation; when I moved out, I was perturbed by the fact that I had absolutely zero in the way of decorations, or even standard possessions.

I didn’t have anything.  I didn’t have a TV, anywhere to store DVDs or CDs, a proper sofa or even a bed, and I certainly didn’t have much to hang on the walls.  I moved out a poor student, and continued through a series of rather sparse-looking apartments with some really rubbish flatmates into a poor working adult.  So I’ve never really been able to afford nice stuff. I remember apartment-hopping, living off inherited furniture from friends/past flatmates, buying crockery and cutlery at the dollar store, and taping posters to the wall because I couldn’t afford frames. Home is where the heart is, as they say, and what does mine say about me?

Allow me to invite you round for a proverbial cup of tea.  One year ago, I was frantically struggling to get out of a lease and find somewhere I could afford by myself.  I was sick of cohabitation dramatics, and Sweet and I had only been together 7 months, so I didn’t think we’d be moving in together.  I was tearing my hair out trying to find a place that wasn’t a complete hole/potential murder scene that would actually be affordable, when the unthinkable happened.

Sweet said we could move in together. We ran around in the snow of a new year, and found something amazing.  A full, two-storey house with new appliances, flooring, paint and windows in a really good location.  It was $100 more than I was paying for my tiny little apartment.  There had to be a catch.  We went one very cold day to the open house, and it was beyond wonderful.  A family of 4 had been living there before, and were relocating somewhere bigger with their new baby, but filled our questing heads with promises of low bills, nice neighbours, and a great landlord.  We had to apply, so we did, but didn’t get our hopes up.  I was making $25k and he was new to teaching – and subbing at the time.  It didn’t exactly scream stability.  I spent the next week looking elsewhere, sure we wouldn’t be picked over more affluent, settled, nicer and more secure applicants.   But we were picked over more secure applicants – I got the phone call while my best friend and I were scouring the local charity shop for new outfits (because we’re hip that way), and I remember screaming and RUNNING at her down the shoe aisle.  We hugged and jumped around like crazy people, and within the week, Sweet and I were moved in.

Once I had the keys, I remember taking the bus just to visit my beautiful new (empty) house every day until moving day.  I was going to be in a house, with the person I loved, with no crazy roommates who’d steal my things, break my doors, or leave piles of my dishes moulding in their bedrooms for weeks on end while they sat there not showering.  This was perfect.  And I wanted to make it look perfect, this time, too.  It was a new chapter in my life, and for the first time, I had somewhere I could call my home.  I wanted it to represent us.  And though we still can’t paint – we’ve managed to decorate enough that I’m perfectly content with what we have.

When you come into our house, I’d like to think it’s welcoming.  It’s very open-concept, and the living room bleeds into the kitchen, which in turn dissipates into the computer area under the stairs.  Everything is so open we can play music off the computer, and have the whole lower level bathed in song.  Throughout downstairs there are little things that tie in to my love for Ireland, a love that’s been in existence ever since I visited two years ago.  There’s a framed poster of a beautiful page from the Book of Kells, little lightswitch coverings of celtic knotwork, and photos I took of Dublin’s architecture going up the stairs.  We have several faux trees, covered in fairy lights, and our main wallspace is taken up by a series of black and white framed photographs of those we love, surrounding a large, framed landscape of the London skyline at dusk. There is a bookcase, whose shelves are buckling with the cramming of too many books piled inside, and perhaps too many candles and photos on top. We have a small, old television but a giant, comfy sectional sofa – I hope this says how small a role TV plays in our lives, and how large good company.

Upstairs we have two bedrooms; one, mostly for storage (and the cat), and the main bedroom, for us.  We invested in a lovely ornate wrought iron bedframe (around which are entwined more fairy lights, which we use instead of a lamp), and the comfiest mattress we could find.  We have a dresser, upon whose mirror are tacked photographs and notes, from each other, and from family.  We have a large, heavily framed Moulin Rouge poster of the couple embracing, directly above the head of the bed, and various photographs of our favourite times surrounding.  There’s a nerdy wall covered in steampunk drawings of Doctor Who villains, and an unfalteringly large pile of clean washing on the floor.  We both have better things to do than fold laundry, and as long as the rest of the house is clean, we don’t mind.  This bedroom reflects love.

I went back to my book, happy at the thought that finally, I have a home.  Somewhere I enjoy being in, and somewhere that reflects the lives and hearts of those who live inside.  Somewhere interesting, warm, and inviting – somewhere I’m really looking forward to being cooped up in for winter, keeping so many of the resolutions I made for this year.

What does your home say about you?

How Badly Do You Want to Keep Those Resolutions Anyway?

It’s the last day of the decade.  I already did my recap of the noughties, and so having satisfied the need to look back and reflect on the past, it’s time to look forward at the year, decade, or however long, to come.  I kind of made a whole batch of resolotions earlier in the year, and as I sit here with 2009 rapidly fading faster than I can hold onto it, I’m trying to come up with some resolutions I can take on in the new year.

This year has been the biggest, most memorable, most wonderful and life-changing one yet.  So 2010 has a lot to live up to.   But I realised this year that I wanted to grow as a person, to push my boundaries, to figure out who I really was and start putting things into action to be on my way to being that person.  I’ve been thinking recently about a list I made earlier this year – I don’t think I ever blogged about it, but I certainly wrote it down and handed it to Sweet, who said he’d happily help me as much as he could to achieve every single thing on it before the year was out.  It was kind of a New Phase Resolution list – I’d spent months and months trying to cope with an anxiety disorder, and one night, after a big old cry, I rolled over and declared my resolution to break free.  He offered words of support, but also cautioned that big changes didn’t just happen overnight – and being the stubborn, impulsive girl I am, I told him yes, they bloody well could.  I made the List, and set about changing things the very next day.

It looks so ridiculous now, but if you’ve ever experienced severe anxiety, I’m sure you can relate.  I remember my first (and only) visit to ADAM, where I was shown a page of a book called Dying of Embarrassment; a list of common thoughts people have when experiencing this type of thing.  Things like “I look stupid.  Incompetent.  Everybody’s judging me.  I’m not good enough.  I’m too fat.  Nobody cares about me.” I remember taking one look and bursting into tears on the spot because in all honesty, that kind of self-deprecating mantra was stuck on a continual loop around my head – it became a habit that defined my life, and ultimately landed me numerous sleepless, tear-filled nights and a fear of socialization.

I’d make plans because I felt I needed human interaction in order to feel wanted, only to cancel them last minute as a result of my fear of being judged.  What if I look stupid when I eat?  What if they think I’m boring? I’d sit silently in meetings at work.  What if I’m too quiet?  What if I say something dumb? I was thrilled when I got my own office at work, so I didn’t have to go sit in the lunch room where I’d spent the first 5 months of my employment not eating for fear of spilling/looking stupid.  It all sounds so far-fetched and ridiculous, looking back – but at the time, the smallest thing – even taking the bus and the back door getting stuck – filled me with fear.

Recently, Sweet and I were driving along, probably talking about what we were going to resolve to do for the new year, and I asked him if he remembered the list.  “Of course,” he said.  I remembered some of the things I’d put on it that I’d wanted to be able to do comfortably, without that sinking feeling, turning a rather flattering shade of crimson, shaking, or my heart beating up a storm:

  • Go to meetings and offer opinions
  • Stand up in front of people and teach a class, or give a speech
  • Sing in front of somebody without reservation
  • Sit at the back of the bus and not be afraid of doors not working
  • Look in the mirror and feel somewhat attractive
  • Eat dessert without feeling fat and beating myself up
  • Write regulary, and write well
  • Host a party without the fear of nobody coming
  • Make (and keep) plans with friends
  • Get through one day without thinking something negative about myself

These are a small handful of things that were on the list. And now, from the other side of making that decision, they look so ridiculously small.  Totally manageable and not a big deal at all.  I posed the question to Sweet: “Is there anything left?” In the last six months, I’ve gone to meetings, spoken up, and initiated new practices.  I’ve said grace, I’ve sung songs when musical inspiration struck, and I’ve done photoshoots with confidence.  I’ve started writing again without feeling like nobody cares what I have to say – thanks to you guys for reading, I’ve gone from 260 page views for the month of October to almost 3,000 in December alone, and it makes me feel like maybe I am actually good at something.  I’ve seen friends regularly, eaten a tonne of cake without worrying how large my thighs are going to be, and am teaching my own class every week.  I’ve stopped worrying about things I can’t control, and have spent my time and energy in an entirely more positive way.

It’s astonishing how much can change if you make the choice to just do it.  And this is why I’d asked Matt to guest post for me at the end of the year, at a time when people are thinking about everything they didn’t like about the year passed by and resolving to change things for the one peeking its head around the corner.  “This year’s going to be different,” people say at this time of year.  People make all sorts of grandiose declarations and by the time Christmas rolls around, wonder what the heck happened.  So when you’re making your resolutions, I hope some of you can really take that to heart.  You can choose to live your life however you want to.  Just decide to change everything you don’t like about your life, no matter how intimidating – because I’ve never felt better, and I can’t wait to face the new year with newfound strength, belief and optimism.  I’ve also had a great deal of support from close friends, loved ones, and people like you.  It’s because of these people I stopped looking at what I was, and started believing in what I could be. When life throws us difficulty, we have a choice to go one of two ways – there’s a quote I’ve always liked that seems quite appropriate for any situation: Life is 10% what happens to you, and 90% how you choose to react to it.

Even if the path looks treacherous – the end result can make all the difference in the world.  So here’s to a new year, full of new choices, new hopes, and a new drive and determination to make all wishes come true.  Happy new year to all of you, and thank you.  Your readership and comments have done more for me than I think most of you know, and for all your stories, support, and friendship – thank you.

And I promise I’ll quit slacking off and come up with some proper New Year’s Resolutions before the week’s out. 🙂

Guest Post: The Power of Choice

This post is part of the Guest Blog Grand Tour over at Life Without Pants – an epic journey of over 75 guest posts. Want to learn more about Matt Cheuvront & see how far the rabbit hole goes? Subscribe to the Life Without Pants RSS feed & follow him on Twitter to keep in touch!

2009. What a year, huh? As December winds down, Christmas and New Years on the Horizon, we take time to reflect on the year that was. Throughout the year we get so caught up in our fast paced lives that we neglect to see how much has really happened. But as it all draws to a close we reminisce over the good times and the bad, the obstacles we’ve overcome and challenges that have come before us. And then, at least for me, I give myself a pat on the back, because odds are, the year behind me was a lot more productive than I thought.

This year has been especially difficult and also extremely rewarding for yours truly. If I used one word to describe everything that happened, it would be “transition” – changing jobs, changing homes, getting engaged, leaving friends and family and making new ones. There’s been a lot of change – it wasn’t easy – but I can sit where I am today and tell you that I’ve learned more about myself in the past year than I have in the past five.

I’ve reflected on life lessons learned this year over on my blog – but I wanted to take a different approach and share with you one of, if not the single most important and empowering thing I’m taking away from this year: The power of CHOICE.

We talk so much about a belief in fate versus free will. Fate will tell you that when you’re born, your path is pre-determined, that no matter what you do, the man upstairs has his mind made up for you – and you’re simply here to serve in that purpose. Free will takes the opposite stance – encouraging that you have the power to do anything you want in life, that your fate it what you make (Terminator, anyone?)

I believe in neither.

Instead, I believe in choice, the only thing that we CAN control. Let’s face it, we don’t have a say in everything that happens in our life. But it isn’t about fate – I’ll never admit that my path is predetermined. Life is going to throw you a shit storm from time to time, it’s not all slow pitches over the plate, there are going to be curves and sliders – things that will throw you off your game and keep you guessing – sometimes even striking out.

But what we CAN control is the choices we make every single day. Options are put before us and we have the power to make the right (or wrong) decisions – to mess up and learn from our mistakes, to overcome great obstacles through perseverance and persistence. Once you start believing in yourself and the power you have to make those choices, the sky is the limit for what you can achieve.

2009 has been an amazing year – not an easy one – but one I will never forget as a turning point in my life. And I know that I will never regret the choices I’ve made that have gotten me to where I am today.

Time Capsule: A Decade in Review

It’s the end of the first decade of a new millennium.  At the end of the year, bloggers usually write some sort of reflection on the year that was.  But I feel like I’ve kind of been doing that continually all year long, so instead of rehashing 2009, I couldn’t think of a better way to end the year (and indeed, the decade) by reflecting on my world of the last decade.  I’ll try and be brief – but here’s my take on the noughties.

2000: This was a big year for me.  Looking back at old picture-stuffed, handwritten diaries, I see my departure from the country I call home.  I see paperbound notebooks, scrawled with messages between friends wishing me luck with boys, with Canada, and with an entirely new life.  I see wonky teeth gone forever and braces finally removed.  I see nervousness, and excitement as I left my life behind and started fresh on an entirely new continent, initial feelings of anxiety quickly surpassed by those of enthusiasm, as I was thrown into high school, and everybody wanted to know the new kid in town.  It seems a million years ago, but we were all still using Napster, Britney Spears was the freshest thing since sliced bread, and Madonna was getting ready to take over the world all over again.

2001: My first proper year in high school.  I started a rigorous advanced program and made two friends I stuck around with for the rest of my high school years, one of which I’m still good friends with today.  I discovered my love of literature and the English language, and decided I wanted to be a teacher.  My first long-term relationship began, with a dark haired Rodrigo Santoro look-alike recently landed from the Ukraine.  Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman were still together, the world was taken by a storm of fantasy as Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings hit the screens, and elsewhere in the world, three thousand people lost their lives as planes crashed into the twin towers. The world was in mourning.

2002: I discovered I could sing, met some guys in a punk band and got up in front of the school and sang Offspring and No Use for a Name covers. I had my first proper breakup after a year and a half, and started learning about my relationship behaviour, an unfortunate pattern I’d soon become very hurt by, and wouldn’t truly realise for another six years.  I got my first job as a “Language Services Facilitator”, very scared of the working world and grown-up responsibility, but very grateful to not be working at McDonald’s or Wal-Mart like most of my fellow classmates.  The music world mourned the deaths of TLC’s Lisa Lopes, The Who’s John Entwistle, and the legendary Joe Strummer.  My new city of Winnipeg is put on the map as My Big Fat Greek Wedding becomes the most successful independent film ever.

2003: I finished high school and headed to university with every intention of becoming an English teacher.  I took English literature, medieval history, psychology and the history of art, and it was through friends I met here that I met Sweet for the first time. We dated for a month (before he unceremoniously dumped me right before Christmas!), and I also first met my best friend. Myspace and Facebook were launched, and changed the face of communication forever.

2004: At nineteen years old, I decided I was ready to move out.  I left home against all common sense, moved in with my then-boyfriend, an internationally travelling showman, juggler and contortionist, and realised how rubbish I was at being left behind.  I worked part time at the post office, and went to university part time, ultimately dropping out due to lack of money, lack of time, and our eventual breakup.  This year, I worked as a postal clerk!  X Factor mania began its reign of television supremacy, and a tsunami took the lives of hundreds of thousands.  This was the year I discovered the magic of the Winnipeg Fringe Festival , found my love of theatre, and have been back religiously every summer since.

2005: The BBC relaunched Doctor Who, my favourite and, according to the Guinness Book of Records, “longest-running science fiction television show in the world, and as the most successful science fiction series of all time.”  I was hooked for life.  I temporarily moved back into my parents’ house, living out of boxes on a sofa in the basement for a few weeks until I found my first apartment, into which I moved with my very first flatmate.  I discovered the horrors of joint cohabitation, but couldn’t afford to live alone, and so began my string of exasperating roomies.  2005 was also the year I got fired for the first and only time in my life, and I decided to go off to another province to work in a holiday resort for the entire summer.  I soon realised what a relentless homebody I was, and came back after about three weeks.  I took the first job I could find, and began my brief stint in the world of retail.  Elsewhere in the world, the first video is uploaded to YouTube, and within six months, the site was hitting 100 million views per day.

2006: I quit working in retail, and got my  soul back! I landed a job as a graphic designer (and soon after, office manager) at a print shop and though I stopped feeling bad about never finishing my English degree, I still longed to be learning again.  I pursued graphic design, learning on my own and getting better and better, and stayed there for three years.    This was the year I got my beautiful little cat, too, but it was also the year my parents split up.  An extremely close relationship with my dad began, but my relationship with my mother went in the opposite direction.  In 2006 I really got into British music in a big way, and discovered my love of bands like Muse, Kasabian, Keane and the Arctic Monkeys.  Gnarls Barkley’s Crazy takes the world by storm and becomes quite possibly the biggest song of the decade.  Twitter is launched – and it takes another three years before I eventually hop on the bandwagon.

2007: was the beginning of the worst year ever.  I (stupidly) got engaged to someone who started off great, but ultimately wound up lying, stealing money, doing drugs, and becoming abusive.  I lost a lot of my self-confidence  and started questioning the person I was.  I learned a lot of valuable lessons, and I wish I could go back to my 2007 self and give her a slap in the face and tell her to stop being so naive.  But 2007 had lots of good moments too – I visited England, France,  went to the best concert of my life and saw my favourite band of all time.  I had my tonsils out over Christmas of this year – THE most painful experience of my life, and found myself alone, in pain, and completely detached from the real world.  Luckily I reconnected with Kyla, resurrecting a wonderful friendship after years of absence.

2008: I had my first year of really being single and living without a flatmate.  I learned that I didn’t have to take every offer that came my way and just say no and be by myself for a while, and let my heart heal.  I went out dancing every week and threw myself into the indie music scene, staying up until 2:00 on weeknights.  In late spring, Sweet came back into my life after about 5 years not being in it, shortly before another trip back to the UK.  I visited old friends, fell in love with Ireland, and discovered I missed Sweet more than anything, and came back into his arms, where we officially decided to give it another go.  My best friend got married in a beautifully intimate ceremony, and I experienced my first moments of real, true love.  I had to give up my second cat, Chloe, and wept for days.  Heath Ledger passed away and the world was in shock.  I was encouraged to leave my comfy job at the print shop and go for something more, so I took a chance, quit, and spent the end of the year in California.

And now I’m wrapping up the decade with what’s been, so far, the best year of my life.  I started with a goal of escaping the shell of a person I was, taking risks and ending up exactly where I want to be.  I moved in to my first house, had an amazing year with good friends, growing closer with my dad, got a job I absolutely love, got engaged, developed my faith, and met my all-time favourite author in the flesh, a moment I will cherish for the rest of my life.  I enjoyed a bunch of amazing music, programmes and movies.  I’m in the final of a national blogging contest and I’ve just started writing for an online music magazine – I’m doing what I love, and being given more and more opportunities to do it.  2009 has been an incredible, life-changing year, and I’m starting the new decade with a spirit of excitement, determination, and gratitude.  Next year already holds a lot of anticipation.  My first trip to the Caribbean, to the biggest city in Canada, to England and to wrap it all up in December, our winter wedding.  I can’t even imagine what I’ll be writing over the next ten years, but I know I can’t wait to share it all with you. 🙂

Happy New Year!!

Post-Christmas Wrap Up

So this is Christmas… and what have we done? Another year over, and a new one just begun…

Well lovelies, another one has come and gone, and, without fail, Christmas 2009 was nothing short of a tumultuous rollercoaster ride of ups and downs, laughter and tears, and realisation that the people you spend Christmas with says a lot about how you really define “family”.  I spent mine in the wonderful company of my dad and stepmum, sharing dinner and playing games with Sweet’s family, braving a blizzard, watching old 80s Christmas movies,  and talking to friends through fits of sobbing who left me feeling incredibly grateful, and got me back on track to being able to really enjoy Christmas after all.

I finally spoke to my nan, who’s still in the hospital, but in good spirits and absolutely thrilled to have had visitors on Christmas Day. Two girls I’d grown up with in England who lived across the street from us were in town for Christmas, and braved the icy roads on Christmas afternoon to visit my poor old nan in hospital.  This Monday, they’re taking her up some clothes and sorting out the house, and it just meant the world to both me and my dad to have two people who weren’t even family give up part of their Christmas to help somebody in need, when our own relatives wouldn’t even lift a finger.  It was unexpected, altruistic and demonstrated the holiday spirit more than I could ever say.

I received a bizzare card from my mother, once again an endeavour to make me feel bad about myself, which I almost let get to me – but I refused to allow it to affect me any more.  I put it aside and went ahead with spending Christmas with the people who really showed their love and care, and who make me feel truly lucky to have in my life.  Sweet’s family blessed me with amazing and thoughtful gifts, good times and memories in the making.  My dad and I shared a meaninful conversation summing up all the bad Christmases we ever had and vowing that from now on, we were going to focus on what was really important in our lives, and enjoy the seasons to come with the people we love.

Sweet and I exchanged gifts (this boy got me the BEST gift ever – a Doctor Who t-shirt!!), snuggles, and words that made me feel that no matter what else is going on in the world, whatever else is going on in our lives and whatever the state of my family situation might be, what’s really important is the family you make for yourself .  This time next year, I’ll be officially “integrated”, with a mother, father and sisters-in-law I already love dearly.  I’ll be married to the person who’s taught me how to be thankful in times of adversity, believed in me, and pushed me to get to where I am today.  I’ll be ringing in the holiday season with my dad, counting our blessings to have each other, and I’ll still be spending it with girlfriends I love just like I would my own sister.

This year, I’ve learned that you don’t have to become the product of your past.  Just because you may have been made to feel by numerous people who were “supposed” to love you that you’re worthless in times gone by, doesn’t  mean you have to resign yourself to believing it.  You can choose to become the person you want to be, and if you’re lucky enough to have people believing in you, you can make your own reality independent of anything you’ve ever been told before.  Just as you can choose to spend not just the holidays, but birthdays, weekends and any other time you like with the family you choose for yourself.  Significant others, new families, blog friends who’ve done more from far away than some people next door, and friends who’d do anything for you – these are the people who truly count, at Christmas, and in life.   This year things may not have fit the traditional mold, but I’ve learned that that’s okay. I’m heading into the new year more sure of myself, more determined to do what I can to make this world a better place, and to continue to push myself, and most of all, more appreciative of the people I have in my life who’ve done so much for me.

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas, and I want to say thank you to all of you for reading, encouraging, supporting, commenting, sending me things in the post… I feel blessed to have you in my life.  Happy holidays to everyone, and I genuinely wish you all the very best for the new year. 🙂

Blessings in a Bittersweet Christmas

In this week leading up to Christmas, there have been several thoroughly unfestive incidents affecting me personally, or indirectly through friends, family and other bloggers, which have left me desperately endeavouring to keep my holiday spirits high.  I’ve been shocked at how much death and illness has surrounded us at this time of year; lives of friends, relatives, and celebrities have all recently fallen into cessation, leaving behind heartbroken families at a time of year when goodwill and festivities are supposed to eclipse the worries of the rest of the year.

But it’s tough, when life insists mercilessly on throwing lemons, on a schedule inconsiderate of Christmas spirit.  I’ve been reading blogs of friends who are going through loss, grief, infertility and sadness, and all I want for anyone right now is to be able to enjoy the holiday season.  It’s just so hard to raise a shield and feign holiday joy in the face of adversity’s relentless persistence.

My heart goes out to anybody whose Christmas this year is tainted.  I’ve spent more than enough Christmases dealing with breakups, surgery and divorce, and everything at this time of year seems exacerbated by the inherent expectations of festivity and merriment.  I want you to know that if you’re going through something challenging this year, my thoughts and prayers go out to you by hundredfold.

In the last two weeks, the incident with my mother exploded as a result of her determination to maintain vendettas, as opposed to recognising someone in need and having an actual heart.  After years of disproportionate efforts, I’m finally done with her negativity.  She knows where to find me, should she suddenly grow a conscience, but until then I made it very clear I was done, and she was not going to be coming to my wedding.

My dad, who I love dearly, got laid off from his job.  A pretty high-end management position, two weeks before Christmas.  Luckily he has a few interviews this week, but in this economy and at this time of year (especially when you’re paying spousal support to someone who refuses to recognise the difficulty in actually paying when you don’t have a job…), I just hope and pray he gets something soon.

Because his mother, my dear Nan back in England, is in hospital.  She gets dizzy and has falls and lives by herself in a 2-storey house which poses more of a danger these days than a home.  Recently she had a fall, and fractured her arm and a rib, and is being kept in a hospital until at least the New Year.  The hospital is out of town, and the only relative who’d actually visit her doesn’t have a car, and hasn’t been able to take her up some clean clothes, or even visit.  My dad and I are totally helpless from halfway round the world, and it’s just so disheartening that we have other relatives over there who, for the sake of maintaining grudges, won’t go and visit.  And my dad can’t go over because he has interviews all week.

Last week I just broke down.  Things are supposed to be happy at Christmas.  And so I did everything I could to try and refocus my thoughts on how much I actually have.  I have wonderful friends who come round with hugs and cake and amazingly thoughtful gifts (we even got each other the same present!).  I have coworkers who send me emails, invite me to their holiday parties, and get together and pray for my Nan. I have you guys, who despite being miles away, read and write to me,  offer your support and even send me cards in the post. And I have my dad, who’s been there for me my whole life, and I’m trying to be able to do the same for him.

I put up decorations, hung the cards, downloaded a bunch of Christmas music and cranked it, singing at the top of my voice while I did laundry.  I made little snowflake cupcakes and bought stuff to make my first mince pies since I moved here ten years ago.  I dug out Love Actually and the Polar Express and my next two nights are full of plans of cat snuggles, movies and some Hot Butter Rum. (Seriously, make some – it’s the best Christmas drink ever, and it’s the only time of year you can drink it and not feel guilty about the calories!)

I’m really thankful for what I have, for my little cat, for my friends and family, and for all of you I’ve found this past year. I’m thankful for the opportunities I’ve had to personally grow, the wonderful conversations, and the chances I’ve had to give back.  If you’re going through something tough this Christmas, my heart honestly goes out to you.  I hope you can take a moment to count even the smallest of blessings; those of friendship, of the work you do, of the gifts you have.  And I sincerely hope and pray that 2010 brings good things for all of you.

Nothing says “Christmas” like Civil War…

Today marks the start of the last weekend before Christmas.  It brings shops filled with exhausted workers and frantic last-minute shoppers.  It brings TV specials, Advent services, holiday parties and, somewhere, in a little country elsewhere in a world filled with countdowns, festivities and frenzy, it brings a race to the annual Christmas Number One. 

Growing up in England, every weekend was an exciting time for music.  Friday nights were spent glued to the television for half an hour watching Top of the Pops, and Sunday afternoons to the radio, listening eagerly to the weekly Top 40.  I remember walking home from school, through the town centre, cutting through Woolworths just so I could check out the new singles chart, and often pick up a few on cassette tape with my £2 pocket money.  The music charts were a definitive part of Britain’s weekend, taking over the television, radio shows and shop displays, and in the leadup to Christmas, the chart battle for the number one spot took over the nation.

Bookies released the odds, bets were placed, and the nation held its breath during the week leading up to the Saturday before Christmas to see who’d hold the coveted number one position on Christmas Day.  Today, the UK finds out who their nation’s 2009 Christmas Number One will be.  But this year, it’s a little bit different.

This year, it’s become a full-out war.  Christmas charts of the last few years have undoubtedly been dominated by the winning single released from that year’s X Factor winner.  I have nothing against this – I love the X Factor, and this year have followed the journey of an absolutely lovely young lad who’s worked hard, won the heart of the nation, come from a humble background, and I’m excited to see him get the opportunity of a lifetime.  Previous years’ winners have gone on to break all-time records, or shoot to international superstardom, selling out faster than anyone in UK chart history, selling multi-platinum level albums and becoming three-time Grammy award nominees.  I love the show, and am thoroughly behind backing these kids who come from all walks of life, and giving them a shot at making it.  This year’s winner was incredible, brought tears to my eyes, a skip to my heart, and what’s happening to him this weekend makes me very upset.

The nation’s been split by a husband and wife team, who decided they were sick of X Factor taking the fun out of the race to the Christmas Number One, and set up a Facebook campaign to get an old Rage Against the Machine song to the top for 2009.   The band’s Killing In The Name track was chosen by the anti-X Factor campaigners because of its message of taking a stand against authority.  And the success has been staggering. The group’s membership has hit half a million, and alternative radio DJs across the country have spread the people’s discontent at the state of the music industry today.   “Fed up with Simon Cowell’s latest karaoke act being Christmas No.1?” the group asks Facebookers. “Me too… So who’s up for a mass-purchase of the track ‘KILLING IN THE NAME’ from December 13th as a protest to the X-Factor monotony?”

Unfortunately, the rebellion has divided the nation, with odds fluctuating drastically all week long, and what initially appeared to be a small internet campaign has taken over the country, with the story being broadcast across the planet.  This kid’s worked hard for months, spending time living in a house of strangers, having to learn musical arrangements and dance routines within barely a week, and living away from friends and family throughout the holidays.  And his shot at a number one single is being taken away by people backing a foul-mouthed, rap-metal US band with a single from years ago that has no place in contemporary British music charts!

With less than 24 hours to go, I’m reading all sorts of articles.  The odds are too close to call. Public opinion is divided.  But the X Factor winner has spent his first week of fame meeting soldiers home from Afghanistan, and sick children in a London hospital.  He says these visits have helped him put his chart battle into perspective.

“This week I have been faced with soldiers who have had their limbs blown off and children who are dying or seriously ill in hospital.  That to me is so much more important than getting to No 1. You just don’t know how lucky you are.”

At the end of the day, I guess it doesn’t really matter who’s at the top when the charts are announced this time tomorrow.  But I can’t help but root for this guy, who’s worked hard, and ultimately, with a journey of hard work behind him, his compassion and sincerity will go on, and I wish him every success in the world – but I’ll still be sitting here, halfway around the world, with my fingers crossed very tightly indeed.

One More for the Life List

Last night I crossed off a big something on my Life List.  Not only did I meet one of the superstars of the literary world – I met my hero.

I first found out Neil Gaiman was coming to Winnipeg about a month ago.  On Halloween, numerous independent bookshops all over North America entered a contest.  The entry: host a graveyard-themed party in celebration of Neil’s latest release, The Graveyard Book.  The prize: a visit, reading and book signing from the man himself.  My best friend and I braved the cold and headed down to our local branch of McNally Robinson to find a wondrous emporium of the macabre, decked out in a breathtaking array of ghoulish displays; costumed staff, a Wheel of Misfortune, tombstones of the “late” Dave McKean and even personalised death certificates, authorized by Misters Croup and Vandemar of the Kingdom of Stormhold.  It was incredible, and it’s safe to say I was pretty much in heaven.

Yesterday morning, I received an email from the shop explaining how the day was going to go.  They’d received such huge feedback and HUNDREDS of confirmations, so they were going to have to issue admission tickets prior to going in.  Luckily it was our work Christmas party (a lovely, fancy lunch) and we were dismissed at 3:00, so I headed straight down to see if there were any left.  Already piles of people were accumulating, but luckily I snatched two tickets before they closed for half an hour to set up for his arrival.  It was the craziest thirty minutes of my life.  Literally hundreds of people piled into centre court, while security guards tried to herd us into some sort of order, endeavouring in vain to maintain some semblance of stability in the middle of a busy mall.  Right before Christmas.  Somehow, I ended up near the front of the queue, and as mentioned in today’s Free Press, nigh on six hundred people piled behind me, ready to cram in to a little shop with dreams of meeting a legend.  Sweet arrived from work, out of breath from dashing madly through the shops, with seconds to spare before the doors were reopened.  We piled in like a raging monsoon, pouring rapidly down the stairs and flooding the floor, drowning the shop in a sea of impassioned anticipation.

We stood, packed in like sardines for almost an hour; any sense of claustrophobia was stifled by the imminent dream.  A few minutes after six, he arrived, as dishevelled, becloaked and eloquently spoken as I’d ever imagined.  An (unnecessary) introduction by the staff passed, and he began to speak.  I’d always imagined how he’d sound; the voice behind the tales of immeasurable imagination by which I’d been swept away.  He sounded just like Alan Rickman, which only fuelled my adoration.  He stood in the centre of the throng of literary fanatics, charismatic, charming and effortlessly brilliant.  He answered questions, read us a passage, and told us he was happy to stay ‘til 1:00 in the morning if he had to, to make sure everybody’s books got signed.

Unfortunately, our section had received the number which would be last up, and all children were going to be seen first; it was already nearly eight and I had a mass of Christmas baking to do before morning – so I grabbed a couple of pre-signed books, took countless photos and a few videos of the master in action, and headed home, thoroughly exhilarated.  (I later heard from a rather annoyingly less busy friend, who gave up at about 10:00, when they were only on number three!)

It’s okay if it doesn’t say “To Emily” inside – I now have a copy of my favourite book signed by the legend himself.  I got to be a part of a huge following of people who’ve been moved by his sheer brilliance of imagination as much as I have.  I have him on film, so he can read me a bedtime story whenever I like, and I have photos from mere feet away.  This was one of those moments I’ll remember for the rest of my life, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.