Personal

A Back for the Future

Some of you may know I suffer with chronic back pain. I’m at the point where eight years into this progressively worsening condition, it’s getting more and more difficult to see hope for a pain-free future – I dragged Sweet along to my most recent doctor’s appointment to step up and ask the big questions: “What’s the long term plan here? She can barely sit through a movie without being in pain. Is she ever going to be able to carry a child?” I try not to think about things that aren’t in my immediate future, but as much as a fight it, it’s my natural tendency to plan and prepare. We’re getting married next year, and hopefully a few years down the line we’ll want to start having kids. If it hurts me to sit at a desk and I can’t carry the shopping in – how the heck am I going to get through pregnancy?

But that’s something to think about at a later date. Maybe. My doctor tells me to take it one step at a time, but I’ve been taking steps for years now, and it’s getting worse. I want to find something that’s going to work now so I’m physically in a good place when I really need to be. I’ve been referred to countless massage therapists, chiropractors, physiotherapists, X-ray clinics, even neurologists (at the latter of which I promptly burst into a hopeless and rather embarrassing fit of tears), none of whom have any idea as to what to do.

It’s easy to give up and resign yourself to dealing with it; a handful of drugs in the morning, a heat pack through the day, and evenings filled with lotions, mini massages (<3), pillows and inactivity. But I want to be able to live properly. I want to be able to help around the house and do the ironing to feel like I’m contributing. I want to be able to go to the cinema without being in agony and sitting with two fists behind my back. I want to be able to walk outside without feeling like there’s a series of knives sticking out of me, and I want to be able to be hugged without my entire upper right side going into spasm. So I’m ready to try something new.

Last week, I went to see an athletic therapist; a friend of Sweet’s who’d worked with him in the CFL last year. After spending an hour with him, I had a new set of activities – gone was everything I’d ever been told about stretching, strengthening, and exercising. I had a new set of evening-only instructions, a new base of knowledge (who knew how the way you get up from a chair could say so much!), and a new hope that I’m on the right track.

Then today, I came home from my first appointment with the new doc in town, a specialist in Chronic Myofascial Pain who does all sorts of dry needling and trigger point injections.  He did an exam, went through everything I’d tried, and told me there were three ways of dealing with this kind of pain.  1: Physical manipulation.  Stretching, physio, massage etc.  Hasn’t worked.  2: Drugs!! All sorts of pills that could potentially damage the stomach; not great for daily pain.  And 3: Injections.  There’s various kinds: dry needling (wiggling needles around inside the trigger points), injections of local anaesthetic into the sorest spots, and injections of steroids or botox.  I went with the middle one.  The idea was that if the worst areas could be numbed temporarily, it would stop the nerves sending pain signals to the brain and allow me to actually work on strengthening and stretching without pain.  The nerves are apparently “hypersensitive” – when pain signals are sent constantly, it gradually makes the muscles hypersensitive meaning pain at the slightest touch.  Which is exactly my case!

SO IF THE WEIGHT OF A QUARTER = PAIN AND INSTANT SPASM, IMAGINE WHAT HAPPENED WHEN I HAD 15 NEEDLES INJECTED INTO MY BACK.

I was in tears.  I was a total baby; it hurt more than anything ever had and was just over and over and over again.  He couldn’t even get to my lower back, so I had all the needles in my shoulder down to my mid back; we got a couple in the lower back but my face at this point resembled a member of a KISS tribute band who’d gone swimming in full makeup.  I was embarrassed, in pain, and I left to go back to work in total shock.  I didn’t realise it until I got back and couldn’t stop convulsing and feeling absolutely freezing, so my dear coworkers bundled me up, fed me some applesauce and sent me straight back home.

Right now I’m still a little shaky.  My shoulder kind of feels numb but my lower back is even more intense, and I can’t lift my right arm up because it suddenly weights a hundred pounds.  I’m going to go bundle up, lie down, and pray this is somehow going to help.

And dread what Sweet’s therapist friend has to say when I go back tomorrow and tell him that instead of exercises, I had a dozen needles stuck in my back and went into shock for an hour.

Happy 101

The lovely Lisa left this for me (if you don’t already read her, she’s wonderful!)  So here’s my happy start to the week.

The rules of this award:

List 10 things that make you happy.
Try and do at least one of them today.
Tag 10 bloggers that brighten your day.
Link back to the person that tagged you.

1. Going to the airport and waiting to board the plane, knowing the next X amount of days are going to be full of adventure and wonderful memories.
2. This video of Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin singing a Christmas song, doing funny dances, and seriously being the best of friends.
3. Blogging, reading other blogs, and blog comments!
4. My little cat, when she’s doing little leaps for a string in the air, hanging upside down over the stairs, or generally being sweet.

5. Looking at big white wedding dresses in shop windows.
6.   Being outside in the sun – we get so little warmth I tend to migrate to the outdoors for two months of the year.  Warm sun will GUARANTEE big smiles.
7.  TV and music from the UK.  All my favourite programmes and bands are from there 🙂
8. Spending time with my lovely fiancé, my wonderful friends, or my dad.  They’re the best ever.

9.  Writing to and getting letters from my sponsor child.  I keep them all on my fridge and hearing about how well he’s doing just makes me beam.
10.  Playing board games with big groups of people!

And loads more!! Thank you Lisa for making me think about all the things that make me happy – what better way to start a Monday morning 🙂

Now, here goes my ten – this is going to be REALLY hard to narrow down…

1. Kyla Roma
2.  Leanne from the [Mis]adventures of a Small Town Girl
3. Jenn from From My Front Porch Looking In
4. Marie from Marie’s Blog Cafe
5. Nora from Walking Through the Rain
6. Hillary from Two L’s Please
7. Ashley from Sound of Silent
8. Amy from Just a Titch
9. Doniree
10. Jen from You’ll Grow to Love Me

That was HARD – can’t I keep going to like, 30??  I tried to be fair and picked ten I had open in tabs, but if you’re on my blogroll, you are most definitely on my list of people that brighten my day.  🙂

The Time Traveller’s Strife

Okay guys, I have to own up to something. I caved.  I went to see The Time Traveller’s Wife.

I’d heard bad things when it first came out and decided to wait until it hit the cheap seats; I’d loved the book so much I re-read it with Sweet immediately after I finished it the first time, and it’s become one of my most loved books ever.  I knew movies based on books had a tendency to be completely disappointing and frustrating – but it was the BEST BOOK EVER – I had to see it on the big screen!

Sweet reluctantly came along, telling me on the way how he knew what was going to happen – I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it because I’d be thinking the whole time how different it was in the book, and I’d leave annoyed and wanting my two hours back.  I hadn’t realised I was engaged to a prophet, but I left annoyed, wanting my two hours back, and angry that those people all around the world who hadn’t read the book never would after watching a puzzling, unexplained tale of two characters who go from first date to marriage with no sense of attachment, intrigue or passion.

Don’t read ahead if you haven’t read the book.  Go and buy it now, while I rant about how much I hated the film.

The movie fails to explain the science that is so expertly and admirably undertaken in the book, in which the author sews the intricacies of time travel seamlessly into a timeless take of star-crossed lovers, desperately living with the curse of a genetic mutation that pulls Henry to moments of time, past and future, of emotional gravity.   In the book, Henry is an intense character, weathered and rough, charismatic, worldly with a turbulent past but an intense passion for the woman he’s loved all her life. You come to know both Henry and Clare intimately, flaws, passions and all, and genuinely empathize to the point of tears by the end.  In the book, Henry is a character.  He’s scrawny, beaten, etched and imposing.  Movie Henry was just a Generally Nice Man – Hollywood handsome, too-short hair, well spoken and well dressed with no sense of character at all.

I’d imagined the Meadow to be so vast – so immeasurable in size, somewhere you’d lay out a blanket in a sea of wild grass and knee-high dandelion clocks and see the landscape extending all the way to the horizon.  In the movie – it was somebody’s back garden.  Moments of intensity in the book are bypassed or treated with disinterest; Henry’s episode of arriving naked in the middle of a harsh winter and struggling to survive the frostbite is unremarkable on screen, with no blizzard, no hypothermia, and no intensity.  The intricately planned concoctions created to get Henry through his wedding day without disappearing are a simple Valium tablet.  Clare’s depression following Henry’s death is practically nonexistent.  A broken-glass ridden body, displaced in time for an instant, is unforgettable in its narrative power, compelling the imagination and evoking feelings of fear, distress and danger, just shows up on screen slightly bruised and disappears again.

Key characters are omitted (including our protagonists’), details are left out and passion is lacking.  I almost cried out at the end of the movie when they left out the best part of the book (the letter I sobbed over for hours? The part when Clare’s an old lady?) and rewrote it to be a Happy Hollywood Ending.  It makes me wonder just how much say an author has when their work is taken to the silver screen.  Is there really any amount of money that could replace your art, your imagination, and allow such butcherings to take your work to the masses? This movie destroyed the very soul of the story, and I hope and pray it doesn’t discourage people from experiencing the real tale.  I can only imagine the pangs of regret seizing Audrey Niffenegger as she sat through the film.

During the credits, I noticed Brad Pitt was listed as Executive Producer.  I suppose that would explain something.  I kind of want to get in on this time travelling thing – even if it is solely for the purpose of going back to the day he came on board, and punching him in the face.

Indie Kids get Early Christmas Presents

It’s December! And what better way to kick off the holidays than with an awesome, non-retail nightmare soundtrack.  I love mix tapes – and I love all my new bloggy friends – so I thought I’d give you all a little early Christmas present. 

Tracklist:

1. No Use for a Name – Fairytale of New York
2. Phantom Planet – Winter Wonderland
3. Death Cab – Baby Please Come Home
4. Manic Street Preachers  – Ghost of Christmas
5. My Chemical Romance – All I Want for Christmas
6. Relient K – Angels We Have Heard on High
7. Bird and the Bee – Carol of the Bells
8. The Hives & Cyndi Lauper – Christmas Duel
9. The Eels – Xmas is Going to the Dogs
10. Fuel – We Three Kings
11. Raveonettes – The Christmas Song
12. Bright Eyes – God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
13. The Fray – Happy Christmas (War is Over)
14. Yo La Tengo – It’s Christmas Time
15. Ryan Adams – Hey Parker, It’s Christmas
16. Snow Patrol – When I Get Home for Christmas
17. Sufjan Stevens – Star of Wonder
18. Various – The Christmas Song
19. Band of Horses – The First Song
20. The Dandy Warhols – Every Day Should Be a Holiday

Okay, I promise, no more Christmas posts for at least a week.  Hopefully this’ll keep you company while you decorate the tree, bake cookies, rock out and wrap up for the oncoming snow.  Hope you like it it!

NB: If you enjoy the tunes, please support the artists by purchasing their music 🙂

Traditions and Wishes and a Well-Dressed Little Tree

It’s officially Advent tomorrow – even if it’s not quite December, but that pretty much means I can now unashamedly inundate you with posts about Christmas!  (Okay, maybe just this one. MAYBE another one closer to the 25th.)

Sweet finally caved after I’d wrapped 2/3 of our presents and they’d been piled on the coffee table for weeks, and let me put up our little tree.  I’ve never had a real tree like my friends, or an 8 ft high pre-lit monster of festivity to take over the room like my dad  – but my little 4 ft one comes out of its box every year, perches on a table with a little red tablecloth, an excited Rose Kitten pawing at it, and gets decorated with baubles and bows from the dollar store (goodness, I’m starting to sound like Charlie Brown here).  This Christmas may be our second one together, but it’s our first proper one living together in our own little house, so I decided the tree deserved an upgrade.

We bought a nice big long string of lights – the twinkly, warm, environmentally unfriendly ones because they’re so much more cosy than the LEDs.  We bought Proper Decorations that cost more than a two dollars.  (Except they came without hooks or strings – point?? – so we had to improvise with paperclips.  I swear that’s the only ghetto part of the tree this year.)  We bought bows and garlands and even some really meaningful ornaments that’ll serve to remind us how blessed we are, and to do what we can to help others.   I lucked out on amazing wrapping paper and spent an evening curling ribbons to a collection of indie Christmas music (I’m allowed to bring out the indie versions before December – I’m hoping to get around to posting a mini indie Christmas mix! – but next week, bring on Josh Groban).

My dad always asks me for a Christmas list every year, and the last couple of years, my lists have really made me feel like I’m getting old!  Over the last couple of Christmases I’ve asked for (and received!) an electric hand mixer, canisters to store teabags and sugar, a crock pot, a rice cooker, and a sewing machine.  What happened to gizmos and music and makeup and clothes?  Looking at this year’s list, I tried to make things a little less quarter-life crisis and a little more fun.

This Star Trek T-shirt from the amazing ThinkGeek.com.  Or just a gift voucher for their whole online shop, because everything is way too awesome.  Especially the office supplies 🙂  This Doctor Who one is pretty cool too.

The most amazing USB hub ever:

Yes, I found it on giftsforblokes.com – I don’t care!! I want one!

Books!  Audrey Niffenegger’s Her Fearful Symmetry, Terry Pratchett’s new one The Unseen Academicals, Nick Hornby’s Juliet, Naked and The Lovely Bones are all on my wishlist.  I plan on reading way more in 2010 than I did this year, and these all sound like very good books to take with me to the Dominican in January.

Games! Because Sweet and I live together now, we can get each other something we’ll actually use together: A WII. So I asked for rock band and karaoke revolution.

A cheap laptop, so I can go be a Starbucks blogger, a ceramic curling iron, ‘cause I’ve never owned a curling iron and I think it’d be fun, and gift vouchers for restaurants, because nothing beats a nice night out.  Not a utensil in sight!

Now we’re living together, we’re also starting our first holiday traditions.  Last year we snuggled in my little apartment and watched Love, Actually (incidentally the first movie we ever saw together at the cinema) and The Polar Express next to our little ghetto tree.  I also made a batch of hot butter rum batter for warm drinks.  We’ll be doing the same this year, and throwing in a holiday (/engagement, since we never had one) party with friends, drinks, games and good times – and one year to go until we officially tie the knot this time next year!  I love starting traditions, and I love the anticipation of them when December approaches.  A personal one of mine every year?  Cranking up No Use for a Name’s punk rock cover of the best Christmas song ever.

What are some of your holiday traditions? And what’s on your list this year?

In the spirit of Thanksgiving…

In the spirit of all the American Thanksgiving-inspired posts I’ve seen recently, even though we had our own Thanksgiving a month ago (complete with microwave turkey and dropped pie all over the oven), I feel inspired to write a Thanksgiving post of my own. 

It’s interesting when you look back on your life over the last couple of years and see how much has changed.  How difficult situations, at the time, seemed so arduous and complicated; taking big steps involved cutting ties, getting rid of the comfortable and easy and moving on toward the different and new.  It’s been a tumultuous couple of years, but I’ve landed with a handful of people who make me feel like life’s amazing. 

I’m thankful for my fiancé, who came back after years of not seeing each other, took a chance on me at a time when it would’ve been easier to say no (though my persistence may have played a small part in this) – he was working fifteen hour days six days a week, and seeing me the one free night of the week meant he had to give up church, time with his family and time with his friends.  I’m thankful he stuck with me when my confidence had been destroyed along with my self-esteem; while I was unable to believe somebody could ever care about me, and while I was afraid of absolutely everything.  I’m thankful for everything he’s taught me, about faith, about relationships, and about gratitude – not a day goes by without him giving thanks for the country we live in, the people we have in our lives, and the blessings we really do have, even when life seems hard.  Through him I’ve become a better person – more secure, more benevolent, and more confident.  And for this I am truly thankful.

I’m thankful for my best friend, who funnily enough also was in my life years ago, and came back after years of being out of touch.  We’d fallen out over something stupid, and at the lowest point of my life, following an enormous break up, I was sceptical I could ever live independently again.  I’d poured all my energy into a horribly abusive co-dependency as a result of my own insecurity, and I had no idea how to function in the real world.  In a recent conversation, she said I’d been like “a paper bird, literally trembling, and jangling cups and saucers as I’d pour her tea”.  She came back into my life during my biggest low, and I truly believe she rescued me. She took me under her wing and slowly brought me back to life.  I’d never been cared for like that before, and I owe who I am today hugely to her kindness and friendship.  I’m incredibly thankful for someone I know is going to be there for life.

I’m thankful for the wonderful relationship I have with my dad.  We’ve gone through some extremely difficult times together, and he’s been the constant in my life that’s helped me get through absolutely anything.  I couldn’t imagine life without him and I’m lucky to have been blessed with such an incredible man I get to call Dad.

I’m thankful that in a world of technology, incredible authors are still churning out fabulous stories, wonderful writing, and books that allow my imagination to soar further than any movie could.   Though on that note, I’m also thankful for the technology that allows me to stay in touch with my friends and family back home, to watch all those wonderful BBC programmes, and to listen daily to my beloved Radio 1 and not feel quite so homesick.

I’m thankful I got the opportunity to work where I do now.  My term may be coming to an end, but even if I don’t get extended, I’m thankful I was given this opportunity.  I’ve grown more in the eleven months I’ve worked here than I ever have in any other job, and I’ve formed friendships I know will last beyond my time here.  People have supported me and pushed me out of my comfort zone, seeing my potential and capability when I haven’t been able to see it myself.  I’m in a better place because of my experience here, and for that I am truly thankful.

I’m thankful for the awful relationship experiences I had in the past – they forced me to really figure out who I was, who I wanted to be, and were invaluable life lessons.  If I hadn’t gone through the crap, I would never have been motivated to live any differently, and I look back on it all as an opportunity to learn and grow to get to where I am today.

I’m thankful for all my new bloggy friends! For everyone who reads, comments, and emails when I’m going through something good or bad, for those people scattered around the world who check in and read my blog, and whose friendship is becoming very real – I’m thankful I found you, and I can’t wait to keep reading and being a part of your lives as much as you are mine.  

Things can be pretty bad sometimes, but when you take a moment to really count your blessings, life can seem truly wonderful.   Happy Thanksgiving to everyone south of the border!

Cowell’s Stranglehold?

Recently, there’s been an outburst of attacks on smash UK reality show The X Factor.  For those not in England, the show’s basically American Idol, but good.  Four judges (including Mr. Cowell) each mentor a category (Girls, Boys, Groups, and Over 25s), pitted against each other for their act to win the competition.  They go through initial auditions in front of thousands, bootcamp at the judges’ homes, and lives shows on an enormous stage with pyrotechnics, smoke and confetti cascades.  Winner gets a hundred thousand pound recording contract, and total world domination (Leona Lewis, anyone?). 

I’ve been watching faithfully for years now, and I suddenly feel like a minority in a war between the masses.  There’s the pop-loving, Britney-singing X Factor faithfuls who’ll buy anything remotely connected to the show (and whose musical taste is determined solely by who’s currently at the top of the charts, and who they heard in the club last weekend).  Then there’s the other half – the recent outburst of celebrities giving a voice to the music snobs (hey, I’m a music snob too, I’m allowed to say that), Sting for one claiming the show is a “soap opera which has nothing to do with music”, and Calvin Harris, who crashed another awful “Jedward” (two bratty little tone-deaf twin brothers who jump about the stage, rapping to Queen songs) performance, running across the stage with a pineapple clutched to his head.  

His aim was to vocalise the growing concern of the state of the music industry.  In recent years, we’ve seen incredible artists emerging out of the UK, but now, in Harris’s words, “it’s like a frightening stranglehold that Simon Cowell has got over the entire music chart in the UK at the moment.”  

Growing up, the phenomenon of the Christmas number one was something exciting to look forward to. After the turkey, presents and mince pies were done with, the family would gather around the TV to watch Top of the Pops, and see who’d won the battle of the charts for the all important top spot.  Since X Factor inception, the spot’s been a guaranteed win for whoever comes out of the show on top, or the annual charity single sung by the year’s top twelve contestants (always a cover, always a ballad, always so horribly Westlife). 

I love the X Factor.  I think it’s great entertainment, not to be taken too seriously, and a fun way of spending your Saturday night in the cold leadup to Christmas.  I’m also passionate about British music, and hate to see publicity taken away from real, talented musicians struggling to make it in a world dominated by reality TV.  I’m not going to stop watching the show.  But I’m not going to stop supporting the little guys, either.

Heroes

What constitutes a hero?

As a child, my hero was probably either Captain Jean-Luc Picard, or someone named Saracen/Zodiac/Wolf/Unicorn/Trojan off of Gladiators (yes, really – was there a Trojan in US Gladiators?), and as a teenager, my heroes grew into those of the English language.  I devoured all the Shakespeare I could, used Peake in an art project, and memorised Chaucer by heart.  As an adult, my heroes once again changed.  No longer celebrities or people who passed away hundreds of years ago, today I look up to people who simply desire to change the world.

According to the dictionary, the primary definition of ‘hero’ (in a non-sandwich related sense) is “a man of great strength and courage”, with a further definition of “someone admired for his qualities or achievements, and regarded as an ideal or model”.   Now, there are a lot of people out there who use their talents, morals and dedication to make a positive difference in the world, and significantly less caped, muscular crusaders zipping about the skies battling evil, and I think these people ought to be given a lot of credit.  Heroes of the written word and the silver screen may have battled monsters and other terrible foes, but they did it for the sake of others.  Translate it to the real world, and your everyday heroes may not be the strongest, handsomest, butt-kickingest demon-slayers, but courage, altruism and grace are certainly transferable skills.

So my heroes today are people that change the world.  People who volunteer for hours on end for a cause to help the less fortunate.  People who give up their Christmases to give the homeless food and somewhere warm to eat it.  The kind-hearted geniuses that came up with It Starts With Us, and everyone who carries out every single one of their weekly missions.  People who go on great feats of endurance to raise money for charity, and people who decide to use their talents to make the world a better place.

One of the people who’ve made my world a better place is author Neil Gaiman.

In a world where future generations of kids will develop arthritis and obesity sitting in front of televisions and computer screens, he churns out literary ingenuity, satiates our appetite for imagination and transports us to other worlds full of fantastic characters that’ll have you begging for his next book two birthdays before its publication date.  He’ll lead you through familiar places – the London underground, an American road trip, give you a relatable protagonist (a young Scottish businessman, maybe, who helps a girl on the street, or perhaps a recently released convict, let out early on account of the death of his wife), add in centuries worth of folklore, cultural symbols and mythology and transport you on journeys you’ll never forget.  There’s not a whiff of a wizard or a dragon that give the realm of fantasy such a stereotype, but his wit, intellect and sheer imagination make him a master of the genre.  I’ve loved Neil Gaiman for years now, loved him for all the times he’s made me rush home or cancel plans just so I could savour another journey into the impossible, and loved him for everything he’s left for generations to come.

And this afternoon, I found out he was coming to Winnipeg.  I read the words and my initial reaction was to scream, however managed to temporarily stifle my exhilaration by quickly holding my breath.  I couldn’t hold it in, so I quickly did some laps around the office and did everything I could not to skip through reception.  NEIL F***ING GAIMAN IS COMING TO WINNIPEG.  You never think you’ll actually meet your hero – so what the heck do you say if you do?  I met someone from Star Trek a few years ago at a convention (hush), and naturally proceeded to clam up, turn beet red and squeal something unintelligible while he signed a photograph for me.  I don’t want to make an even bigger arse of myself in front of the most talented and respectable man in the world.

So if you had the chance to meet your hero, what the devil would you say to them?

Who really likes being stuck in traffic anyway?

Traffic

This weekend I had an interesting conversation with my best friend about blogging. She’s been blogging for a year and a half, updates on schedule like a fiend, and averages at least 35 comments a day. I’ve been writing for five years, and am lucky to get 3 or 4 per post. I’m in the blogging communities. My posts automatically show up on my Facebook page after I’m done writing. I visit at least 15 blogs, and comment, at least every other day. So why don’t people care? I asked my friend what the trick was. Her response took me by surprise – why do you care?

I’ve always thought I was a pretty good writer – in school I was the A+ English student who read Jane Eyre for fun and actually looked forward to writing 15 page essays on the corruption of the church in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. I subscribed to endless Word-a-Day emails, and carried a thesaurus around to improve my writing while I was on the go. I loved the English language, and I loved to write.

Looking back in my archives, I was a terrible blogger. I’ve obliterated all posts about my Series of Unfortunate Relationships, and what’s left is the remnants of my post-teenage rambling about nothing of any substance at all. Only in recent years have I actually started to write, instead of keeping an online diary. I write about intense emotional experiences I’m having in regards to my personal growth, my dreams, pain and persistence. I write about my opinions on current events, music and movies. I write about things I’ll look back on and actually care about.

So why do you care about traffic?

The question took me completely by surprise. I thought about it for a few days, and came to several conclusions:

  • A few weeks ago, over lunch with a coworker, she asked me why I was pushing myself out of being an introvert and into the spotlight, when clearly it made me uncomfortable. I told her “because I used to be able to” – and looking back on my life, she made me realise a lot of what I’ve done, I’ve done for the approval of others. Singing in a band, going to stage school, putting on talent shows – I enjoyed doing all of them, but I enjoyed being told I was good at something more. This is something I’ve only recently realised, but holds a lot of truth. I love to write, but I love being good at it, so naturally a lack of traffic would cause discomfort.
  • I’m an INFJ.  Apparently the rarest of the personality types, the description of it fits me to a tee. We are crushed by too much criticsm and can have their feelings hurt rather easily. They respond to praise and use approval as a means of motivating others, just as they, the INFJs are motivated by approval
  • Having switched from a boring “this is my life” blogger to one who writes about things I actually care about, I guess I had the expectation that other people would too. Fact of the matter is, the Blogging World is just like the Real World. There are people who rule it, who can post about the contents of their bowel movements and still have a hundred responses, and there are people who can write about morality and politics, psychology and the human mind, about growth and inspiration… and get absolutely nowhere. I never did that great in the Real World; I grew up feeling kind of an outcast and today I can count my friends on one hand. So naturally my blogging experience draws a parallel.
  • I don’t like schedules. I don’t like deadlines, and I don’t like planning things out and working on them weeks ahead of time if I can just put them off ‘til whenever I feel like them (this has been recently illustrated in my recent attempts at a bible study; my friend is diligent and excited to stay on the 5-night-a-week schedule, while I get to Sunday and try and cram everything in in one go). Maybe this sets me up for failure in terms of ever being a successful blogger with piles of responses and thoughts every entry. But I think I care more about doing it my way.
  • I’m not on Twitter! It seems every blogger and their dog is on Twitter, and it’s something I just can’t bring myself to devote that much time and energy to. One week from now, I’m not going to care about what I was doing at 10:12 am on Monday morning, and I don’t expect anyone else to, either.

So maybe I’m spelling my own doom. But I’m going to keep writing, about what I want to write about, whenever inspiration strikes. It’s my blog, after all. And if, along the way, somebody’s motivated to respond… it’ll bring a pretty big smile to my day (I made somebody’s actual blogroll the other day, and almost fell off my chair).

And besides, I can’t be that rubbish. I just got signed up to write for an online music magazine.  And that makes me very happy indeed.

Heartbreak

Sometimes I just absolutely hate being a part of this world.  I try and fill my life and as many other people’s as I can with optimism and positivity, but when I see things like this I just about die inside.

I received the email from my PETA subscription, and I can’t even describe how hard it is to read about things like that.  I know animal cruelty goes on in this world.  I know people kick their dogs and tie cats in bags and throw them into the river.  I know chicks get their beaks chopped off so they can squeeze more of them into confined spaces without them pecking each other to death.  The thought of every one of these things breaks my heart and when I saw the article yesterday, I spent most of last night in tears, with my poor boy trying to console me.  

Last week we were driving down a residential street, and we saw what looked like a guy kick and hit his dog.  We couldn’t stop, but if I’d been driving I would have pulled a 180, got out of the car and started screaming at him.  Last night I was this close to booking a flight to Utah, with a mission of punching the asshole doctor condoning these horrors straight in the face.  Try injecting and jamming things into your own kids’ brains.

How can people live with themselves or allow this sort of thing to happen?  I try and do all I can to support people who live in extreme poverty and disease-ridden areas because they don’t have a choice in how they live.  I pick World Vision over United Way because I prefer to do something to help those who have no other choice.  And I feel and advocate for animals for the exact same reason.  It’s not their fault they can’t speak. They need looking after too. 

It’s tough to see the images and read the stories of what’s happening in the world.  Every time I read an email I contemplate hitting the unsubscribe button.  But it fuels my determination to do everything I can to try and put an end to this horror.  I’ve spoken to Sweet, and we’ve decided instead of wedding favours, we’re making donations to World Vision and PETA with little cards informing our guests of our decision, and why.  I’ve already signed up for next year’s 30 Hour Famine and we’ve agreed to rescue another cat from the Humane Society.  Once the snow’s been and gone, I’m going to start volunteering.  I wish I could go climb Kilimanjaro and raise millions for malaria nets, or model in a campaign to stop the fur industry like Christian Serratos.

I just wish I was in a better position in this world to be able to do more.  Sometimes, lots of people in this world really break my heart.

Advocation for Self-Education

Not normally one to write about politics or current events, I couldn’t help but hop on the H1N1 discussion. At work, I’ve somehow landed myself the position of Co-Chair of the Workplace Safety and Health Committee (yes, me, I know) and naturally, the topic of H1N1 and subsequent vaccination has been a bit of a hot potato in recent meetings. I’ve found myself very much in the minority when I decided to sit in at lunchtimes and continue to watch Torchwood, while everybody else bundled into their vehicles to hit the nearest vaccination “clinic”.

Shopping centres around the city have been transformed into mass vaccination hotspots; on Friday afternoon I had to make my way past a full news crew and endless winding queues just to be able to buy a book. We were told inititially that everybody should be vaccinated, that Canada had bought more than an ample supply of the vaccine, and there was most definitely enough for everyone. My coworkers started coming in with sore arms, proud of their premature innoculations, and satisfied that their families were now safe from the flu. But then the news started to turn. People not in one of the “at risk” categories were encouraged to hold off and allow those more needy to go ahead first. Doctors’ offices were packed with floods of people. And strange reports started coming in from around the world.

Having been raised on Star Trek and the X Files, any time the government decided to encourage mass injections of something into the entire world’s deltoids was always going to peak my curiosity. And being on the Health and Safety Committee, it was only right that I did my part to educate myself on the possible risks, right? I started seeing Facebook groups popping up on “Protesting the H1N1 Vaccination”, news articles from around the world on how the vaccine was never properly clinically tested – “so far, according to the Health Canada website, there have been no tests on children or those over 60 – for either vaccine. Instead, the federal government is relying largely on results from what Health Canada calls a “mock” vaccine based on an entirely different strain of flu.” The ingredients of the vaccine seem further cause for concern – the biological index of that vaccine includes chicken embryos, formaldehyde, squalene adjuvant, thiomersal (mercury derivative), polysorbate 80 (preservative) and aluminum adjuvant among others listed on the Biotechnology Information Institute website.

And then came the post-vaccination effects: the recently married cheerleader who can now only walk backwards following a freak reaction to the swine flu vaccine (I couldn’t bring myself to watch the video). The jab being linked to 25 deaths in the USA after a letter from the Health Protection Agency, the official body that oversees public health, telling neurologists to be on the alert for a brain disorder that could be triggered by the vaccine. And in a recent study published in the journal Neurotoxicology just last month, the researchers found that primates injected with a single vaccine containing thimerosal suffered significant neurological impairment when compared with those who received a saline solution injection, or no injection at all. Thanks to Marie for the link to that one.

It’s hard, when there’s so much conflicting information flooding the internet, to really know what to do, and it really comes down to a personal choice involving weighing out the pros and cons, and deciding which makes you more comfortable. Or uncomfortable. Of course, statistically you’re more likely to get swine flu than you are to get some horrible mutation/disease/die from the vaccine. And fear plays an enormous part in the decision. Which are you more afraid of? For me, it’s an easy decision. If I’m going to get ill, I’d rather it be from a natural strain of the flu than from a one in however many chance a man-made, untested “solution” going wrong. When I was a kid, people didn’t care about hand sanitisers or breathing masks or worrying what they might catch from being on an bus for 20 minutes on the way home from work. There wasn’t such thing as “correct coughing” into the crook of your arm. You put your hand in front of your mouth and nobody would bat an eyelid. Today, we live in such a state of fear that we’ll blindly inject things into our body if the newspapers and TV make us all afraid enough of H1N1.

Fire me from the Health and Safety Committee, but I’m not getting the H1N1 vaccine. I’ve spent too many hours watching shows that question the government, and recently, doing my research on the flipside of the H1N1 vaccination coin. If you’re debating getting the shot, I’d strongly encourage anyone to make sure you’re fully informed before succumbing and falling prey to the mass hysteria taking over today’s world. I’m going to close with one of my favourite songs right now, which just so happens to touch on the topic of not being controlled or forced into anything – and also just happens to sound kind of like the Doctor Who theme.

Poster of a Girl

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about Things I Want To Achieve in life, you know, the big stuff. What I want my profession to be in ten or fifteen years. Which things I want to conquer, and why. What I’m going to do to make a difference in the world. This was all brought about on Friday, when I took my biggest step yet in getting over my anxiety, something that’s socially crippled me for a larger chunk of my life than I’d like to admit.

I taught my very first class. And after a week leading up to it full of restless nights, I actually did it, and left the room slightly shaky – but entirely overwhelmed, with a sense of accomplishment I haven’t felt in a very long time. And I have to thank my newfound faith, and the prayers and encouragement of people close to me who’ve reminded me that I wasn’t put on this earth to be afraid and held back by fear, and if I wanted to make a different in people’s lives, however small, I was bloody well going to do it. So I did, and now I get to continue to push myself, continue to grow, and continue to get better at it, all the while hopefully passing on some kind of knowledge to those who may not have it, who may use something I said to feel like they can do something too. Which is pretty cool.

I also had a really cool lunch with one of my coworkers on Friday, where we sat cross-legged at little tables, eating sushi and debating the different thought processes people have. I did a brief stint studying psychology in university, and though I never finished, I never lost my fascination for everything encompassing it, and in the office we often talk about different personality types and how they relate to careers, hobbies, etc. I’ve taken the Myers-Brigg several times, always with the same result – an INFJ, making up a whopping 1% of the population. INFJ’s are known as “Protectors” or “Counsellors” with an emphasis on heightened emotional sensitivity, introversion, creativity and caring. Which is all very accurate. So then why, in my coworker’s words, “why do you want to prove you can be in the spotlight?” Why do I want to be able to be comfortable in front of people?

“Because I used to be”, I answered. Which wasn’t a lie; go back ten years and you’ll find a girl heavily invested in performing; a girl who went to stage school every week, put on talent shows, organised fundraisers and sang her heart out in shows and bands. Go back fifteen and you’ll find a child who was always first to volunteer to take the solo part of the chorus in school musicals, always the first to narrate when reading stories. My childhood formative years were full of extraversion, creativity and a love of the limelight. But fastforward to those “adult” formative years, between 18 and 23, and you see a different story. Those were the years my anxiety grew progressively worse, and I always looked back and blamed the series of dysfunctional, slightly abusive relationships I kept getting myself into. How could a girl ever believe in herself when everyone she ever loved treated her terribly? Looking back, all I can say is it was a huge learning experience, but it definitely left me feeling pretty rubbish about myself, and knocked my confidence completely.

So why DID I want to push myself out of my comfort zone so badly? When being in front of people made me feel physically sick, my head was full of fear and my body started shaking, why did I so badly want to push myself into this situation? I wish I knew my Intraversion/Extraversion scores numerically; maybe, as my coworker suggested, I was on the borderline. 51% Introvert, 49% Extrovert, though if you only came into my life in that period, you’d never know it. I asked myself why, if I was naturally an introvert, I felt so uncomfortable being alone – felt the need for company, to be out and about and doing things. But then if I was so close to being an extrovert, why being in the spotlight made me want to run for the hills. It’s a very interesting time in my life, and I don’t have the answers yet.

But I do know that I can do it. I can put myself out there and be absolutely fine in front of other people, because there’s evidence to show that I’ve done it before. Sure, I might be quiet by nature, and a pretty tough period in my life may have led me to believe I didn’t have anything worth giving to the outside world. But things have become clear to me, in the last year. I used to let the fear of other people’s judgment control my life. And it’s a REALLY tough thought pattern to let go of. But if I don’t, I’m never going to be all I can be. And whose opinion about me really matters? The people I love, and the people I’m putting myself out there for – people I want to help. I was lucky enough to get a pretty good education, and I’ve had opportunities in life that now allow me to be in a position to share some of that education with people who may never have had the chance. Seeing someone at 10:00 on Friday looking at me so lost, and then two hours later fully engaged and asking questions and looking a whole lot more confident left me feeling pretty good.

So I’m going to keep working at it. I may never be back dancing on stage, or fronting a rock band again. But I can keep pushing myself to be in front of people, with the goal of getting back to who I was meant to be, and hopefully helping other people out a little bit. As for performing in front of anybody again – well, isn’t that what cats are for?

ABCs

Self indulgent and all, but I have an hour to kill before dinner, and this is way more entertaining than laundry. Had to after I saw it at Misguided Me.

A – Advocate For: Providing help for the malaria situation in Africa, child sponsorship, proper spelling and grammar, animals

B – Best Feature: My knack for finding new UK music and TV when they’re very much not available to the colonies

C – Could do without: People kicking the backs of chairs in concerts and movies

D – Dreams & Desires: Be able to speak in public without HUGE amounts of nervousness and shaking

E – Essential items: BBC radio, Rose Kitten, Sweet, at least 3 cups of tea a day

F – Favourite pastime: Singing songs off musicals when nobody’s home

G – Good at: Pretending I have straight hair, decorating cupcakes, finding typos

H – Have never tried: Smoking

I – If I Had a Million Dollars: Pay off debt, travel to India, Italy, Sweden and all the other countries I want to visit, go volunteer in Africa for a month, buy a house, and maybe get a nose job

J – Junkie For: British chocolate, BBC radio, X Factor

K – Kindred Spirit: Kyla

L – Little Known Fact: I listen to a lot of Scandinavian power metal, and I did Jiu-Jitsu for years

M – Memorable Moment: The Muse concert in London, singing along with 70,000 other people

N – Never Again Will I: Try and bleach my own hair

O – Occasional Indulgence: Expensive tea

P – Profession: Part graphic designer, part advertising purchaser, part health and safety chair, part facilitator, but full time nerd

Q – Quote: “A lot of people say there’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I don’t think there’s a fine line, I actually think there’s a yawning gulf. You see some poor bugger scuffling up the road with balloons tied to his ears, he’s not going home to invent a rocket, is he?” – Bill Bailey

R – Reason to Smile: A cat to cuddle, and to occasionally push along the carpet while she paddles along

S – Sorry About: My younger self’s naivety

T – Things That Are Worrying You Right Now: When the investigation on my bank account hacking is going to be finished and when I’ll get my $1000 back

U – Uninterested In: Office politics

V – Very Scared Of: Losing those I love, things with tentacles

W – Worst Habits: Worrying about things I can’t control, knuckle-cracking

X – X Marks My Ideal Vacation Spot: Anywhere with sunny skies, blue water and a steady +27 degrees

Y – Yummiest Desert: Butterscotch Angel Delight

Z – Zodiac Sign: Gemini, just about

On blowing my bank account in Montreal this weekend

So this weekend was pretty decent. Unfortunately I didn’t get to hang with my favourite girls (as a result of a nasty case of sickness and exhaustion on both their parts – and a copious amount of hugs goes out to both of them!) but instead I went to a wedding social, which was actually tonnes of fun. I watched the X Factor, lazed in pyjamas, cuddled with the cat – oh, and I MAXED OUT MY OVERDRAFT HALFWAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY IN MONTREAL. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, today I was informed I was victim of my very first bank fraud crime – my access card number had been stolen along with my PIN, sent somewhere in Montreal, and almost a thousand dollars withdrawn. I was left, this lunchtime, with a sympathetic banker on the line in one hand and a pile of declined debit till receipts in the other, sadly looking at a salad I couldn’t pay for. I, naturally, in true to self fashion, immediately started crying in the middle of the food court (until I remembered my leftover cash from Saturday’s social, took my salad and ran). How awful is that? I went to get a new card, new PIN etc. after work, and was informed it could take a few weeks for the investigation to be completed and “proved” fraudulent before any of the money was returned, so that leaves me in a pretty rubbish position for the next couple of weeks. But I suppose that’s what Visa cards are for, right?

On an entirely separate note however, the good news is that the competition I was in from September – October, which so many of you faithfully spent chunks of your day voting for me MULTIPLE times, has finished Round 1. I think I might have made the finals – I’ll find out for sure in early November, but if I have, I’ll be in the December 14th issue of Wedding Bells magazine all across Canada, and have a one in seven chance of scoring a $5,000 wedding dress and an all-inclusive honeymoon to the Mayan Riviera (yes please). So I just wanted to let out a little SQUEEOMG – and thank everybody for their fierce and faithful support in getting me this far. I’m truly humbled to have had not only my friends but also people I don’t even know voting for me, and I’ll post more when I hear anything at all about the next round…

This week is going by at a crazy pace; I have deadlines, meetings, reports, training and my very own class to teach at the end of it – I’m whizzing through it fuelled by caffeine in the mornings, a glass of wine in the evening and the thought that at the end of this week, I will well and truly have faced my biggest fear in life having been crippled by it for the last few years – and once I get through it, I’ll get to keep going, teaching weekly and getting more and more experience standing in front of people and actually teaching. Yes, I’m definitely terrified. But I’m also excited. And I have a sneaky feeling everything’s going to be just fine… and this weekend will be a very celebratory one indeed.

When too much becomes too much

As you may know, I’ve been experiencing an ongoing battle with a chronic pain condition that started about eight or nine years ago, shortly after I arrived in Canada. As a sixteen year old child, healthcare practitioners didn’t take my complaints of being unable to sit for extended periods without constant pain along the entire right side of my back seriously, but encouraged me to come back and get cracked, adjusted, or whatever it may be. I stopped going for treatment several years ago because nothing was working; I became discouraged, poor from not having healthcare benefits, and resigned myself to having to live with it. A couple of years ago I had an accident resulting in a compression injury to my upper back and being couch-bound with the latest in conical fashions stylishly wrapping my neck. The injury exacerbated the ongoing pain, and for the last year and a half since, I’ve been in constant pain extending from my right shoulder to my right hip, along the entire stretch of the right hand side of my spine. It doesn’t stop. I have a heating pad strapped to my office chair and often take breaks to stretch because it gets too bad to be able to sit for the whole day. I get home and find I can’t even sit upright on the sofa, watching TV with Sweet, because it hurts too much. The only time I’m without pain is when I’m
lying on my back, face up. I can’t exercise, go dancing, or go bowling. The temperature’s dropping and I’m finding it increasingly more painful to walk home at night.

Six months ago, I finally qualified for some benefits through work. At last! Horribly overpriced benefits, but mandatory benefits, so I intended to take full advantage and try and get this thing sorted out. I went to physiotherapists, massage therapists, a chiropractor several times a week, an acupuncturist, my family doctor, an ergonomist and today a doctor in sports medicine. I was even a “case study” for ten weeks for a student at the massage therapy college. A common conclusion from several of these people: myofascitis, or myofascial pain syndrome. Huh? The symptoms fit the definition of fibromyalgia, but a determining factor in that is that the symptoms are in all four quadrants of the body. Mine’s all packed into one. So the condition was explained.

The “fascia” encases all the muscles in the body, allowing them to move together, maintaining structure and acting as a shock absorber. It’s a dense connective tissue that interpenetrates all muscles, bones, nerves and blood vessels from head to toe, and in my case, has become so tight around all the muscles on the right side of my back that they are held continuously in spasm, unable to relax. This accounts for the pain being there ALL the time.

Every treatment I’ve had has done nothing. I’m 24 years old – “young people don’t HAVE these sorts of back problems”, I’m told. I’ve been sent for X-rays, blood tests, you name it, but each practitioner starts from scratch and none of them communicate with each other. Apparently “every trigger point is active”, making it difficult to withstand any pressure – massages are excruciating. Today I went to a sports medicine clinic armed with the advice of an ergonomist, who’d told me if anyone would understand it, it would be a doctor in sports medicine. Long story short, I came back from the appointment, arrived at work, and promptly burst into tears. It was the same thing I’d experienced everywhere else. Unnecessary x-rays, stretches, and a referral somewhere else.

What do you do when everything you’ve tried has failed? When you’re experiencing something so apparently uncommon that nobody knows what to do, and passes you off to somebody else?

I talked to a coworker I’m close with, who had some encouraging advice. I don’t make a habit of writing about my spiritual/religious experiences as it is something that is relatively new to me, but a lot has happened to me in the last few months that has no other explanation. A year ago I was a wreck; nervous, self-conscious, no self esteem and forever plagued by the thought of what other people must be thinking about me.  Sweet came into my life, I got a wonderful job, and everything started me on a journey that’s led me to where I am today.  I’ve read books, prayed with coworkers, had highly spiritual experiences and been part of what can only be described as miracles.  I’ve learned that I wasn’t put here to doubt myself, worry about what other people think, or be anything less than the good person I want to be.  I’ve learned to unload my anxieties and keep praying, and I’m sitting here having done presentations to other reps in the field, developing a curriculum and my very own class scheduled to start at the end of the month.  I never would’ve thought it possible before I learned all I have.  I kept trying to solve my issues myself, and failing.  When I put my trust and faith in God, I grew.  My coworker instantly posed the question to me: what if that’s what I need to be free from this pain? I’ve spent years trying to solve it myself, seeing different therapists and doctors and healers with absolutely no results.  What if I need to do with my pain what I did with my anxiety? She said her church had a “Healing Prayer” every so often, and had personal experience with debilitating pain being instantly cured as a result.  She said she’d go with me if I was willing to give it a try.  “No more tears, Grasshopper” she told me.  And it just so happens there’s one this weekend.

So, this Saturday night I’ll be experiencing something very new to me.  I’m putting my faith in what she’s told me and hoping for healing.  I never thought I’d overcome my fear of public speaking, and I’m amazed every day at what’s happened.  Maybe this is what I need to do.  How incredible would it be, to be able to tell that story, and be free to live life properly again?

Fig409BackMusclesTrP

How sweet the sound

It’s been over a month since I last wrote; far from lack of stories to tell, moreso being swept up in them!

I spent the last couple of days of this week at our annual company retreat.  I say annual because they’ve been doing it for the last eight or nine years, but this was definitely my first one and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  We were given a sheet of paper about a week before we left, saying “my dream is to…” followed by a big empty space.  We were instructed to dream big, really big, something bigger than we could achieve on our own.  And then came the retreat.  It started off hilariously – every car was a different team on the “Amazing Race” to Cedarwood Camp out by Lac-du-Bonnet.  We received a series of envelopes with about 5 tasks to complete in each set of 20 minutes, ranging from taking a team picture with blue tongues, to pumping gas for a complete stranger, to having a picture with real policemen, to finding the closest 70-year-old and posing with them and their ID.  It was a frantic, wonderful morning full of adventure, coffee and running around, and we finally arrived at Cedarwood… about an hour and a half later than everybody else, thanks to the quiz we got so focused on in the car that we missed our turning! The next few days were filled with an interactive lecture from John C. Maxwell, an accompanying study guide to his latest book, Put Your Dream to the Test: 10 Questions that Will Help You See It and Seize It – something that caused a great deal of personal reflection, analysis, encouragement and tears.  Not a lot of things have changed my life, but I can safely say I was moved so incredibly much by these two days (including a very personal spiritual experience in a devotional led by our boss) that I came home with a new sense of purpose, and a new drive, determination, and most importantly belief that I really am on my way to achieving my dream.

I realised this weekend that everything and everyone I hold dear in my life today have come back to me within the last year or so; people have been placed along my path to help guide me along my way from where I started, lost and so scared, to where I want to be; confident, unafraid and able to help and inspire other people.

I’m in a really good place right now, and I want to thank those people in my life that have helped get me here, and I can’t wait to put everything I learned into practice, and see where I go from here.

gs_jcmaxwell2_full

This is your life (are you who you want to be?)

As this week comes to a close, I find myself with a compulsion to write about it. I feel as though this entire week has been satiated with sign after sign of things really and truly changing for the better. I’ve had such difficulty in recent months with finding my place, believing in myself, pushing myself forward and I’ve spent much of the time writing and dreaming about how things will be different one day… and I truly feel this week has been the turning point.

I was supposed to start a second job. I went for the interview and was offered the position on the spot, with training to commence the following week. This, however, was a month ago – the training was postponed until this upcoming week, and yesterday I had another call saying they’d hit a work shortage, and would have to put the training on hold indefinitely. I’d been pondering the effects of having to work 13 hour days and how it was going to affect my everyday performance, health, and general well-being, and lo and behold, I get a call telling me I don’t need to be there. Again. Hard not to see it as a case of question asked, question answered. I’ve asked Sweet to help me budget, and with summer days looking ever more scarce, I think I’ll be doing a whole lot more staying in anyway, so hopefully I’ll not need that second job after all.

Another issue: my constant, paralysing fear of speaking in front of people. In meetings, in classrooms, anywhere. I’ll psych myself up so badly that by the time my turn to talk rolls around, my voice has been overpowered by a thundering heartbeat and trembling limbs. But interestingly, this week I had opportunity after opportunity thrown at me to overcome this. I got offered a photoshoot gig for a New York clothing line, with a proper photography company, selling real stuff. I was terrified – standing in front of a camera, having to be good enough to sell product, never having taken coaching or anything of the sort. Why did they want me? I was the short girl whose missing inches spoke louder to agencies than she ever could. I was the girl with the unruly hair, the small chest and big hips. The girl five years older than 90% of her competition. Why did they want me? Still, it was a chance to go in there, wear beautiful things, get pampered a bit and spend an evening in the ever-elegant Fort Garry Hotel. And it went amazingly! So wonderfully so that I was informed excitedly the next day that I “looked like I’d just walked off the cover of a high fashion magazine”, and they wanted to book me – and pay me – for the next two weekends. To be in a fantasy “women with weapons” calendar to be sold across the states, and to sell an enormous, beautiful black gothic wedding dress. I’m incredibly pumped, but my self-doubts are finding it hard to keep it up with things like this happening. Maybe I’m not as awkward and unappealing as I’d always thought.

The third sign came in the form of a project I’m helping organise at work. Over the last month, I’ve arranged scheduling and worked with a film crew for a couple of documentaries we’re doing. I’m fine being creative and setting things up from behind the scenes, but on Tuesday they hit me with a proposal. They wanted me to be the voice to narrate the entire finished product. This meant speaking, and being very good at speaking, for 50 people a week to hear my voice promote our services. I was given the (extensively long 12 page) script, sat in front of a microphone with two media guys and their camera equipment, and told to go. I was terrified. My whole life, I’ve allowed my nerves to get the better of me. Always speaking too quickly and too quietly (and in an accent, too) for people to be able to understand. So when they told me to slow down after my first read-through, I went into panic mode. My skills were being tested and I was failing miserably, just like I always had. I went upstairs to grab some water, promptly burst into tears and sent one of my coworkers to do it for me. I proceeded to go home and beat myself up about how stupid I was, what a bad impression I made, etc… and then went back to work the next day. Where I was told they’d called and said they wanted me to try again. They said I had the voice that was “perfect” for this, and sent me a big long supportive email empathising with my anxiety. As I was talking with my boss, a student walked by with his young son, and informed us that the “only reason he brings the boy is because he likes her voice”. It was pretty hard to ignore all the signs around me pointing to the idea that maybe I could do this after all. So the owner came down, set me up in a little room, and we did a read through. It was fine; encouraging, supportive, and he even asked me to read a script for another video they were doing – and to be an “on file” voice for their company.

This was ridiculous. I’ve had a week of facing my fears… and being shown very loudly and very clearly just how unfounded they really are. I can’t express my amazement at how I’ve just been shown that my thoughts aren’t reality… and the support of everyone surrounding me has just blown me away. The inside voice that’s always told me I can’t do it has finally been silenced. I’m ending this week on a total high, and ready, really ready, to face whatever comes up.

Next week I’ve even volunteered to facilitate a weekly workshop. The girl of 2 months ago would’ve cut a hole in the ground and thrown herself hard into it at the very thought. As Switchfoot put it, this is your life. And if I can pull this one off, I think I’m well on my way to being who I really want to be.

More mold with your salad? How about some hair?

Every weekend or so, my lovely father and I go for lunch at Perkins to catch up on the week’s events. It’s always nice to spend an hour or two with my dad, especially on a lovely day like today. Perkins isn’t known for being overly posh; it’s cheap, family-friendly comfort food – today’s visit, however, was probably our last.

I decided to get a “Farmer’s Market” salad – full of spinach, candied pecans, strawberries, feta cheese… it sounded delightful. Until I went to take my second bite, and half a strawberry covered in a slightly unwelcoming skin of grey-green mold sat on the end of my fork. Our waiter was mortified, and proceeded to get the manager, who instead of taking the opportunity to apologise, arrived red, flustered, and clearly panicked. She brought back another salad, this time a Caesar (I’d since lost my cravings for fruit)… which was full of half-brown lettuce, and a lovely hair on top. I decided my dad (the man who’d had Poulin’s in over the weekend for mice and told them that for $300, he “expected their heads on little spikes set up on the front lawn to scare off all their mates”) would be better than I would at dealing with the situation; he did, and we didn’t get charged, and left with a $25 gift voucher… although why we’d want to go back, I’m not entirely sure…

Makes you think, though, doesn’t it? With Gordon Ramsay on his fifth series of Kitchen Nightmares, a story in the local paper about several of the city’s restaurants being closed down for sub-standard food hygiene, along with the recent Sizzling Wok incident, it kind of makes you wonder what really goes on behind the scenes…

The fringe’ll fix it

Okay, okay, I surrender.  Fringe festival: 1; silly, negative, worrisome, time-and-energy-wasting thoughts: 0.  Before I took this week off I was in a pretty low place, but I’ve seen ten plays in the last seven days that have all somehow led me back toward, and onto the path upon which I want to stay. 

I began it with two very different shows; one put on by a group of friends of mine who I look forward to seeing so much every year, which had me  laughing out loud.  Another, a performance poet, a veritable connoisseur of the English language, left me thoroughly entertained for the sixty minutes in his presence, and thoroughly reflective in the subsequent couple of hours.  

 In the week, I saw what I can only describe as my favourite performance in my five year Fringing history.  Moving Along was remarkable; hilarious, sad, inspiring, disturbing, though-provoking and encouraging.  A man who never moved from an electric chair  controlled a series of spotlights surrounding him, accentuating and punctuating his tales.  The message was clear: life can take an incredible number of twists and turns, but we all only have a finite amount of time here on this earth, and so often it’s taken for granted.  Incredible show, and I was left feeling totally renewed, uplifted, and ready to take on the world. 

I saw a love story in which one character told the story of her relationship from the breakup backwards; the other told the story of his from the moment they met, forwards.  They met in the middle and I had more than a tear, while I heard someone behind me sobbing her heart out.  I spent some quality time with my parents enjoying a laugh-a-minute tale of one man’s career as a psych nurse in the mental institutions of Great Britain, walking out humming the impromptu musical number, “it could be worse, it could be worse, it’s not time for the hearse” feeling positively happy to have spent a week enjoying such talent, and having people I love to share it all with.

Somehow, almost every show I’ve seen has invigorated me, made me think about what’s really important.  I realised I do only have a set amount of time, a set amount of energy, and why would I want to waste that beating myself up and missing out on life?  I’m off now to see a show that’s selling out and even has Kleenex stations set up, followed by another weekend of friends, positive energy and creativity. 

I’ve wasted so much time recently… and this week’s been a complete wake-up call.  I feel like I’ve done a complete 180, and I can’t wait to get back into how things were really meant to be. 🙂