Personal

Find yourself

I’ve been struggling a bit lot for the last little while with a lot of personal issues, and while I’ve been exceptionally grateful for the people who’ve offered words of advice and encouragement, I can’t seem to shake what’s going on. 

I count myself so lucky to be blessed with wonderful friends, a wonderful partner, a bright, sunny city that embraces culture, diversity and the arts, to live in a beautiful house and never have to worry about things that affect so many people in other parts of the world… these are the things I try to keep at the forefront of my mind, but I find so often they find themselves in the back seat, while my personal insecurities and anxieties take over. 

I worry so much about everything it’s affecting – well, everything.  I worry I’m not fun to be around, that nobody would ever want to hang out with me if I didn’t make the first move.  I worry about what other people will think of me if I open my mouth and offer an opinion.  I worry that they’ll see me turning red and shaking, and then I’ll get upset because I’ll convince myself they think I made a bigger fool of myself than I do.  I worry the past will repeat itself and I’ll be left for something… better, more exciting.  I worry about people judging me, thinking I’m incompetent, tactless, ugly, weird.  Even when I’m around people I love dearly, I worry about what they really think of me.  Do they secretly see me as the socially awkward, funny looking, too quiet, unexciting girl I do? 

I have so many dreams… if I could get over this constant fear, I’d be able to do so much more.  I love to sing, but I’ll only do it alone when all the windows are shut tight.  I love to dance… and I’ll throw myself into it, when I’m sure nobody’s home.  I love to write and create… but I’ve stopped trying, for fear it’s all rubbish anyway.  I’d love to write a play but the fear of it being judged horribly scares me away.  I love to share, to educate others on the issues of the world… but I’ll make my contribution in the form of a monthly donation, or a sponsored event where I don’t have to be in front of anybody.  I love to play games and throw dinner parties… something I haven’t done in years.  I gave up on my dreams of being a teacher two years into my post-secondary education when I realised I’d never be able to stand in front of anyone for a living.  I’m passionate about so many things… and I just feel trapped by my own insecurities, and I don’t know how to get past it.

I saw a play last night, a good friend of mine was in it, and one of her lines said something along the lines of “I don’t get embarrassed.  I just made the decision not to a long time ago.”  If only it were that easy, I thought.  If only I could make the decision to believe what other people tell me, believe in myself, and not be so sure everyone else in the world thinks I’m an idiot. 

I spoke to someone about it all a few weeks ago, and she said it was all about finding who you are, where you fit in in the world.  I’ve always kind of turned my nose up whenever people say they went off “to find themselves”, but maybe there’s something in it after all.  Right now there’s the person I think I am, and the person I want to be.  The stress, I guess, is caused by the discrepancy.  I want to be able to be fun, exciting, talented, confident, someone who can inspire others and someone people want to be around.  But maybe I’m just better off by myself? Maybe I need to realise that I do better alone, when I’m at home with my cat reading or singing or watching TV.  Maybe if I didn’t feel such a need to be reassured all the time I’d actually feel more okay about myself, and not worry so much about being judged.  I don’t know what the issue is, but I wish I could just go take a week and spend it somewhere remote, figure it all out, and come back ready to face the world.  I think it’s my turn to find myself, and maybe when I do, things will be a whole lot better.

And so it begins

The best part of my year is peeking around the corner.  Three days ago, the Fringe came to town, and it’s here for another solid week – a week I’ve finally taken off work to enjoy more fun, creativity, life and inspiration than I could imagine.  This year there’s almost 150 different shows to choose from, and yesterday I made my schedule for the upcoming week. I’ve already seen a powerhouse performance poet rant a fervent and furious soliloquy, deifying his audience and making sure we were all aware of the new English History Syllabus (“We won, we won we won we won we won we won”).  I’ve seen some dear friends sell out the house and make me laugh so hard I cried. Still to come, I have a horror musical about robbing graves for medical science, a fairytale about a giant girl, a Shakespeare-meets-Seuss love story, and a frightening story of bringing a virtual reality junkie back to life.

The sun is finally out, the Exchange district is buzzing, and I get to spend a week with my best friend, theatre, sunshine and the ever-present countdown to all I have to look forward to this year.  My new job is going amazingly; I’m learning so much, I’m going out to seminars, I’m creating radio scripts and ads to go up throughout the city.  My officemates do yoga and watch movies at lunch time.  I’ve got a series of wonderful concerts to look forward to in the fall; Keane, Sonata Arctica, Dragonforce, Franz Ferdinand and Flogging Molly all in the span of two months.  I jump around and start clapping at the very thought.  And, after the year wraps up with friends and holiday cheer and a week to enjoy the festivities, I get to go to a 4 star, all inclusive resort in the Caribbean.

I’ve got a sneaky feeling this might just be the best six months I’ve ever had.

Hakim Craptical

31 May: My ever-wonderful father decides to treat my stepmum and I to a new pair of glasses each. We’d seen various Hakim Optical shops opening up around Winnipeg, and they had an amazing deal of 2 pairs for $199. Too good to miss, we went straight for the nearest one, and after convincing them both pairs were for me (bizarrely we share an identical prescription), placed our order for some fancy new frames, being promised they’d be ready within the week.

Issue One: An hour after leaving the store, they call and tell me they can’t use a prescription from another store based only on a phone call; they needed a copy on paper. Every time I’ve bought glasses before, the optometrist called the last place I had my eyes tested, jotted down the prescription, and made the glasses no problem. But not Hakim – I’d have to go back during the week, pay them my $80 and have my eyes tested again, despite the fact I had them tested less than a year ago somewhere else.

I decided to just go back to said somewhere else, ask for a reprint of my prescription, and go back to Hakim. No problem! They took the prescription and said they’d be ready by the weekend.

Issue Two: A couple of days later I receive a phone call telling me their lens cutting machine wasn’t working properly and had cocked up one of the lenses, meaning they’d have to re-order them, but assured me they’d call me when they were ready.

Issue Three: A week goes by with no word. I call, and a manager informs me one of the two pairs are ready. They end up being Nicole’s. Once again I am assured I will be phoned when mine come in.

Issue Four: It’s now the 18th of June, and still no word. I call and the manager tells me they will be in tomorrow, I can come after work and pick them up and she’d give me a free bottle of lens cleaner, which would definitely make this whole sodding process worthwhile. So I show up the following day after work, and the same manager tells me it’s been really busy that day, she hasn’t had time to go and pick them up from the downtown store, and they were still on Portage.

I work downtown. If she’d called me, I could’ve walked the two minutes and picked them up myself. So I take a bus back to where I’d been half an hour ago, and finally pick up my new glasses. Huzzah!

ISSUE FIVE. The lens falls out two days later. No, I didn’t sit on them or drop them – they’re just shit. I return to Hakim where several other customers are complaining about it “being a bit of a long time”, and an arm falling off… and I’m told this particular style of frame “doesn’t tend to hold weaker prescriptions very well, which is why the stronger lens didn’t fall out….” and that I’d have to talk to the manager on Monday. Doesn’t hold lenses very well? Then why is it still on the bloody shelf?! I decided to pick another frame, and have her ask the manager to just re-frame me with those ones. Which weren’t as nice.

I went in on Tuesday, not able to decide between two alternate pairs, and called the lovely Kyla to come to my rescue. We picked a little pair, at which point the manager tried explaining why I couldn’t have the original ones I’d chosen – the lens had been cut incorrectly, and if she took it to St. Vital they could cut it properly… and lo and behold they were ready the very next day, lenses solidly in frames and all.

$100 glasses are a steal, but I’m not quite sure the 3 week circus extravaganza was entirely worth it…

Back on solid ground (well, sort of)

I’ve always tried to live my life with a positive outlook. Crap gets thrown my way – it’s okay, it could always be worse; I’ve got a lot of things that aren’t totally pants, and well, I always try and learn from whatever it is. The last couple of weeks have been a little tougher than normal, and I’ve kind of put myself on the line; feeling pretty low about myself I turned to those I held dear, and now, after a serious of really good talks, a lot of time to myself to think about things, a potential promotion in the works and really realising I have all I need in the world, I can safely say I’m back on track.

So I might have tendencies of social anxiety. It’s okay – I’m finally getting to be okay realising I don’t have to be a great public speaker to move ahead in the world, I don’t have to look picture-perfect to be attractive, I don’t have to be the life of the party and have plans every Friday night. I do have to realise that it’s not the end of the world if I have to make a speech and I stumble over my words, that nobody’s going to think I’m weird if I eat messy food in public, that nobody’s going to really think I’m an idiot if the back doors on the bus don’t open properly. I’ve realised just how much energy I’ve been wasting on things that really don’t matter at all, and I’ve been allowing it to consume me, to exacorbate my insecurities, when I should just stop worrying so much and use the energy to actually enjoy myself.

I’ve also unfortunately learned the hard way that some people in the world could care less about anyone other than themselves, and would rather take advantage of someone’s vulnerability and use it to provoke drama and conflict rather than help. I’ve been really hurt by a few people recently, but it’s just made me realise how hard it is sometimes to find truly good people in the world, and how lucky I am to have them in my life. So what if I only have a handful of people I can call true friends? They mean the absolute world to me. Their support, encouragement and advice have been invaluable over the last few weeks and you know who you are – thank you, thank you so much.

So I’m sitting in a pretty good place right now. I have people in my life who I know are still going to be there fifty years from now telling me to get my arse in gear. Football season’s started, which means my lovely is gone from six in the morning until ten or eleven at night, but it makes those fifteen morning minutes and the hour before bed together so cherished, so magical. His support and love have also been incredible over the last few weeks, more so than ever, and though we don’t get to see each other much right now, I’m feeling more steady on my feet, and I know in just a few months there’s so many good things to look forward to. I also applied for an internal position at work, a senior position to mine, with more graphic design, more PR, more marketing and less tedious tasks and being in front of people. And my own office, hopefully. Fingers crossed! So I’m sitting in a pretty good place right now – well, not the most comfortable place, considering I got second degree burns on the bottoms of my feet last night and spent the day bandaged and walking on my toes – but other than the flesh wounds, the world’s looking a whole lot better. 🙂

Back to reality, please

The last few weeks have been pretty tough. Maybe I’ve not been updating for a while because I just haven’t had the heart to share, or perhaps I’ve been scared to, but whatever it is has had me retreat into myself to the point where I’ve just been taken over by sadness for the last few days. I was debating even writing but I felt it might do some good to get it out, and I logged on… and saw my last post. Which kind of brought me back to my senses.

There’s been a few things getting to me lately, namely my dad possibly moving away, my mum still not talking to me, friends moving away, a habitual lack of sleep and just being in pain a lot of the time… it’s all got me pretty down, and I haven’t been myself lately – I know it, but I haven’t been able to shake it. I keep thinking about 18 months ago, when I first sat down in front of someone from the medical profession instead of relying on the words and encouragement of friends and family, feeling scared, alone, anxious and generally not really good enough for anything. After a few weeks I started to feel better; I started seeing friends more often, spending time with my dad lots, making a concerted effort to get over whatever “social anxiety disorder” this person thought I may have, and just back into being positive and comfortable and optimistic. It worked, for a while – I hung out with people all the time, I took up new hobbies, I found Sweet, I got a new place… and things were really good. But in the last few weeks I’ve felt myself slipping. I see opportunities for me to grow and contribute as a person, yet feel crippled by the fear of what other people might think about me. What if I’m too quiet? What if my accent’s too strange? What if I speak too fast? All my flaws one high school history teacher had pointed out in front of the class during a presentation one time come flooding back, and I feel paralysed by anxiety. I can’t go for promotions or new roles at work, because they all involve speaking in front of others, or giving presentations, or talking at staff meetings. Heck, I can’t even give a coworker a goodbye speech after organising a group gift and making a big goodbye card. I’ve stopped going to devotions at work because I’m afraid I might get asked to speak. I try and avoid sitting at the back of the bus so I don’t have to use the back doors for fear they won’t open and I’ll have to yell “back door!” in front of a bunch of strangers. It’s ridiculous, and awful, and I can’t get over it.

I feel like I’m retreating, reverting back to the shell of a person I used to be, so afraid of other people and scared to take risks. All I want to be is someone who can make a positive difference in other people’s lives; I don’t want to be the centre of attention but I want to be able to go out and not be afraid to order food in front of people, I want to be able to contribute to group discussions and have my ideas heard and appreciated, I want to be able to get up in front of people like I used to, when I was in stage school, when I was in a punk rock band, when I was in plays and dance classes… I don’t know why, or how, but I feel trapped by my insecurities and by fear, and lately it’s just taken over. I’ve been miserable for the last few days because I just feel I have so much to give, but unable to ever get anywhere because I can’t get it out. I’m too scared of other people. Recently I’ve felt like everyone has so much more going for them; friends, family, travel plans, jobs, scholarships… I want so much to be a part of it, to be able to give and express and not worry about being too quiet or too fat or unfit or too ugly or too shy… I want so desperately for this feeling to go away, to go back to how things were a few months ago… to be happy and content again…

I know how lucky I am… I’m lucky enough to have someone remind me every day how lucky I am to live in a country where we have so much, we have jobs, a roof over our heads, food on the table, no war or terrorism or disease to worry about… how lucky I am to have a wonderful place to work in, to have a father who’d do anything for me, to have a love so strong I know to the bottom of my soul it will always be there, to have friends who’ll be there no matter what. I’m so lucky and thankful for all of that, I really am. I just want to feel good again, confident again, liked, respected and not scared and insecure again. How do I make it stop? How do I get back on track??

I think I just need to put things into perspective and do something to get over this. Realise just how lucky I really am. Actively face my biggest fears and actually go to Toastmasters instead of talking about it for 6 months and never venturing out. Keep stretching and exercising and trying to get past the pain. Sing in front of somebody. Contribute to discussions, call people and hang out again. Count my blessings. I don’t like how I’ve been thinking for the last few days, and we’re about to enter football season (meaning I’ll see Sweet for about an hour or two each day for the next 8 months, and I want those two hours to be filled with happiness and gratitude, not self-deprecation and anxiety). I want so desperately to get past this, and as of right now, I’m going to take a long hot bath, rinse the last few weeks down the drain, clean up my house, and start tomorrow fresh. I have a whole summer ahead of me. And I want to make it the best one yet.

A little perspective

Today is my second day doing the 30 Hour Famine. It’s my second time doing it; I did it years and years ago in high school and we all camped out at the school and had plenty to keep us from thinking about how hungry we were. This time I decided to do it by myself, and unfortunately it coincided with Sweet’s trip to Minneapolis, so I’ve spent the entire time home alone and it’s been slightly harder. But I decided to use the time wisely, and in addition to cleaning my house and picking up some new contacts, I educated myself a little bit more about the cause I’m doing this for.

I found out a tonne of statistics and watched a bunch of documentaries that just moved me to tears.

• Number of people in the world who suffer from chronic malnutrition: 923 million
• Percentage of children living in poverty in the world: almost 50
• Estimated number of daily child deaths linked to extreme poverty: nearly 30,000
• Number of people worldwide who do not have access to safe water: 1.1 billion
• Number of people who die each year of water-related diseases: 5 million
• Number of children forced to flee their homes and live as refugees: 9 million
• Number child soldiers worldwide: 300,000
• Number of people under 25 who become HIV-positive every minute: Four
• Number of people who die each day due to AIDS: 5,753
• 1 in 8,000 women in the UK die during childbirth; in Africa, the figure is 1 in 8
• Malaria kills a million children in Africa each year, and the worst thing is it’s an entirely preventable disease, and a malaria net only costs $10.

I watched a documentary on a group of people climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, which was SO inspirational. 1 in 3 people who try and climb it don’t make it, and they went through months of training and fundraising to try and raise a million for malaria nets. Over 7 days they struggled through exhaustion and altitude sickness but they made it, and ended up raising THREE million, which was just incredible. I have a copy of the documentary – if anyone’s interested, I’d be more than happy to share. I think you can also find it here in clips on YouTube. Just seeing the footage of people whose children have started off so promising, doing well in school, and then being affected by the disease and wasting away, and eventually dying after a grandmother has carried them for miles to try and find the nearest clinic. It’s heartbreaking. I can’t even imagine. We are so lucky to be living in this country, and people complain about our health service and about the costs of things but we have no right to. I wish people would just take a second to imagine what life would be like if they’d been born in a country like Uganda, had no access to hospitals or medicine, safe water, or even a malaria net. We have so much to be thankful for, and right now I am thankful to everyone who donated to this 30 Hour Famine. If you have a second, you can send a net, and save a life.

Anyway, onto the rest of the week. We’re still buried in snow and it’s still making me want to move away every single day, but things are looking brighter for next week and I’m ever looking forward to summer. I had my first Reiki session on Wednesday, which was slightly bizarre, I spent an hour lying down while the therapist waved her arms around my body and then told me afterwards things that were frighteningly accurate in terms of issues I’d had, things I was dealing with, and I’d never mentioned a word of them to her. Very interesting evening!! I also had my first proper April Fool’s Day at work, which was TONNES of fun; I arrived to my desk and all my photos had been replaced with pictures of a very pregnant co-worker from the 90s; I had someone return a call from “Mr Lyon” and listed the number of the Winnipeg Zoo, there was Vaseline on earpieces, nametags set in jelly and keyboards’ keys all switched around… all in all a very fun day. 🙂 I got some freelance work this week too, which came at a REALLY good time (although I did turn into a bit of a hermit as a result), so I think next week is just going to be a lot of catching up with friends, and making up for lost time with the boy. Oh, and as of six hours from now, eating a great big cinnamon bun 🙂

Bring on the sleigh bells

Today I began my day feeling miserable, cold, tired, and altogether rather sorry for myself. I’d spent the last week or two getting used to the positive temperatures, working a week in skirts, switching from oatmeal to cold cereal and very much getting excited to finally be rid of winter. And then today happened. Winter storm watch on red alert. Roads closed. Frozen faces and downtown highrises disappearing in a sky reminiscent of December. Winter apparently wasn’t going anywhere, and I couldn’t make a cup of coffee large or warm enough to get me going this morning. On the way to work I found my thoughts taking off without me. “You live in a city where half the year is spent in Arctic conditions!” my head was telling me. “That’s going to be half your life!” said my father in a mid-afternoon e-mail, confirming my day’s anti-Winnipeg thoughts and making me wonder whether I really can live in this city after all. I’ve been here nine years. Well, eight years, three hundred and fifty days. But close enough. But recently it’s really been hitting me hard as to whether or not I can happily live somewhere where half my life I’m never going to be happy to go outside in the mornings. Going back home and visiting the UK didn’t help, neither did seeing beautiful Ireland for the first time last summer, and neither did taking bike rides along Venice Beach in shorts this January. I love Winnipeg, well, I love parts of Winnipeg, but those parts are just so much harder to see when the last six months have been so awful, and it seems life could be so much more enjoyable anywhere else in the world.

Still, at least things aren’t brown and dead and grey and gloomy any more. That’s my least favourite thing about spring, and today the sky was filled with soft and sparkling snowflakes. I walked home from Osborne Village tonight and I wish I’d had a camera with me. Under the bridge a series of frozen stalactites had formed in neat little rows and looked quite decorative. As traffic crawled through laneless roads, slipping and sliding and inching along, I clambered over mounds of freshly fallen snowflakes. I couldn’t get over the shimmering sparkles, so I kept my eyes on the ground the whole way. That way my destination was a nice surprise, rather than a far-off goal impossible to reach. I turned down my street and admired the view. Across the river, downtown was lit up. There was no road, no path, just a vast expanse of new, never-trodden snow. I climbed my way through it and started to laugh – I’d safely made it past McDonald’s and Burger King resisting all temptation, and I was so hot and exhausted from the trek that I was completely okay with the fact I hadn’t gone to the gym tonight. I arrived at my front gate and laughed out loud. The gate was adamantly shut in the middle of a desert of snow dunes in my front garden, refused to open, and so I had to climb over. I finally arrived home to a warm house, a happy kitten, and yesterday’s cupcakes, and collapsed.

It sucks so bad that winter’s here all over again. But sometimes you can’t help but smile.

Clubby McGee, re-inspired

Since Thursday I’ve been affectionately addressed by my boy as Clubby, after I fell down my exciting shiny new stairs (whose novelty has since very much worn off) and broke my wrist. It’s been a few days since I’ve got used to my uber-cast and felt okay enough to write, but I’m off today and figured I’d spend it with a combination of blogging, watching a girly movie, and with my current love, The Time Traveller’s Wife.

Tomorrow, at work, is the end of my 30-day probationary period. I believe this comes with some kind of Employee Review. I’m hoping my boss looks more at me showing up with a broken arm, sick, offering to redesign the corporate image and getting referrals from my old work rather than missing 2 out of my first 30 days and going home because my throat hurt so bad nobody could understand what I was saying. I’m not hugely worried – I’ve had lots of positive feedback and I get on well with everyone, I’ve just had a bit of bad luck… right?

Other than work, I’m happy to say I’ve reconnected with a couple of very dear friends who both recently took (separate) extended trips away; one to Germany, Amsterdam and Rome and the other to Egypt and Morocco. Both these people arrived back in Winnipeg in the middle of a bitterly cold winter after experiencing new cultures, new people, and entirely new ways of life that are all happening all over the globe this very second while we sit here in a city so cold nobody wants to leave their bed for 6 months of the year. It reminded me of when I got back from England and Ireland last summer – I’d gone to a place I feel at home, I’d seen historic sites, spent a day in a wonderful city full of life and colour, visited a university I spent the next few months researching in a desperate attempt to find a way to attend and live in, and saw manuscripts over a thousand years old that moved me to tears. Seeing my friends again who’d taken trips come back into the Winnipeg Blues brought it all back; I heard stories of camping out under the stars in the Sahara desert, taking trips down the Nile, standing next to enormous pyramids that defy historical engineering, and how their way of and thinking had changed entirely after seeing the value of food, of water, and of people in places so far away from the life we lead here on a daily basis. Me and the boy had a Big Talk soon after, about how badly I wanted to go somewhere and experience something like that again, and how desperately I wanted to share it with him. I admire his way of thinking and finding positivity in everywhere he goes in this little city, but I so badly want to explore and learn and just take him with me. We talked about taking a trip, maybe in a year or two, but then we talked about maybe doing a World Vision trip.

I get the e-mails every year. $1,000 – $1,500 and you can take a “Destination Life Change” trip. You join a group travelling to either El Salvador, South Africa, Ecuador, Indonesia or Rwanda. You get to see child sponsorship first-hand and really experience what it’s like out there. I think I want to go. I’ve been sponsoring a little boy in Ghana for the last few years and in just over a month I’m doing a 30 Hour Famine to try and raise money for the charity. Right now I’m sitting at $35 in donations. A lot of people are giving me their apologies, which is fine – but all I’m asking for is a few bucks. If everyone chipped in the cost of a Starbucks it would go a REALLY long way, and I just really want to not only spread awareness, but try and make a little bit of a difference too. So I’m doing that on the 3rd of April. But I’m definitely thinking about looking into one of these trips. How life changing would that be?

Back in the zone

So, er, where was I?

Oh, that’s right, struggling to pick up the pieces after Flatmate From Hell, packing my life into (I swear) at least a hundred boxes, unemployed, and very much stressing at said state of unemployment.

But that was 2 weeks ago.

Now, I have a new job. I have a new house. I have officially said a final goodbye to a long string of flatmate disasters, started working somewhere that exists to help people, just like I wanted, and I’ve moved not only into a new place, but an entire two-storey house with beautiful hardwoods, new paint jobs, my own back garden, two huge bedrooms and a storage shed so I can pretend I don’t own a whole bunch of crap. And I only have a handful of boxes left to unpack! I can’t believe the change that’s come about in the last few weeks. After a couple of weeks without a job, I somehow got multiple offers all on the same day, and I was so excited I took a quick lunch with the boy and called back the one I’d really wanted to work at. They’re called Opportunities For Employment and they’re a non-profit organisation that helps people who might be without computer skills, older, disabled, or on welfare etc. gain the skills they need to be able to present themselves to the workforce and get employed. It’s very interesting and is also part of a research study involving the different psychological levels of wanting to gain meaningful employment too, and tailoring different programs to different stages to hopefully be more effective. I get to be the first person people see when they come in, at my own desk, surrounded by a team of lovely people. I get three weeks holiday and over an hour in breaks every day. It’s very awesome indeed.

Me and the boy also took a big step recently. Probably bigger for him than for me, since it was his first move away from home, but just over a week has passed and we ended the last one with an incredible weekend. The first weekend we exhausted ourselves with packing, moving, lifting and unpacking, and all week we’ve both been working two jobs leaving the only time we have to see each other 6am to 7:15am Monday-Saturday. Saturday night we went out dancing for a friend’s birthday, grabbed some midnight greasy wings and chicken fingers while dressed to the nines at Smitty’s, and spent our full non-working Sunday with a big breakfast, pyjamas, and countless back episodes of Heroes. It was pretty much the best thing ever. Adjusting to only seeing someone five or six waking hours a week is tough, I’m not going to lie. But being able to wake up with them every morning in our first house together, cherishing those Sundays we do have, and knowing this is the beginning of the rest of our lives… makes it all worth it.

Also recently I was part of MillerFest – my first annual Master Playwright Festival. I was one of seven bloggers who got to go see a bunch of plays and write about them, the productions, Arthur Miller and theatre in general. It was tonnes of fun and I learned lots about a very, very interesting man. I only wish it hadn’t been right in the middle of moving, or I would’ve been able to see lots more. Still, I’ve had a good creative fix, and it’s definitely shortened the wait to Fringe. Only 5 more months!

Now I’ve settled down I think I’m going to be back online writing a whole lot more than I have been in the last month. It’s been a whirlwind, but from where I’m sitting now, I very much like the direction things are going. 🙂

Holy Crap

I decided to entitle this post as above because I haven’t written in a good few weeks and I know what’s about to come may very well be pretty lengthy. I’ve got so much ground to cover it’s ridiculous, and I usually do an “end of year” post, but being away over the new year made that slightly difficult so I’m going to attempt to cram everything from the last few weeks into this post. Grab a cup of tea.

Let’s start with Christmas. I can pretty much say this was the best Christmas I’ve ever had in my entire life. It all took place between Christmas Eve and Boxing Day (as Christmas tends to), and involved playing fun games with one side of the boy’s family, my first Catholic Christmas service (which involved a beautiful communal rendition of ‘Silent Night’ in a pitch dark church), seeing my own family (and playing Rock Band with my little brother who I talk to maybe five times a year), and meeting the entire extended French-Italian other side of Sweet’s family all for the very first time. I’m just glad I know enough French to be able to understand what’s going on – there was probably over 50 people there for an enormous Italian feast out in the country, and it was quite the evening!

After it was all done, I packed my bags and the next day headed out on my own to California. I had to go through the “we don’t like non-Canadians” customs, involving retina scans, thumb and finger prints, and countless questions about why I was going and why had I not got my Canadian passport yet. Two planes and several screaming babies later I arrived at midnight in Los Angeles, and spent my first night on Shelby’s boat. I’d heard lots about the boat, but I had no idea what to expect. It was a cosy little thing – he put it as “kind of like camping” – there was no heat or lights and barely enough room for one person, but it was in the middle of Marina Del Rey, surrounded by palm trees, boats with Christmas lights on the masts, and a sky so full of stars I could’ve sat out on the dock forever.

We didn’t spend much time in the boat anyway, and the next few days were packed with bike rides down Venice Beach, healthy lunches in the park, improv shows with Sarah Silverman, jazz clubs, photo ops with Jeff Goldblum, Universal City and Rodeo Drive. It was a whirlwind of a couple of days and then I packed my bags and hopped on the Greyhound to Palm Springs, where I found my boy and his wonderful family waiting for me.

The next few days were spent in the enormous Great West house. It had four bathrooms, two living rooms, a hot tub and a pool which we decorated with candles for New Years Eve. We explored the vast Indian Canyons – an enormous forest of palm trees, went shopping, swam, and just spent a glorious time in the sun with some of the loveliest people I’ve ever met. Our flight home was delayed because we had to wait for the plane to be de-iced, but spending the delay sitting in first class was nothing to complain about at all, and we got home, safe, cold, exhausted, and collapsed in each other’s arms for a little while before parting ways and getting some much needed rest.

I started my new job on Monday – I’d spent most of the Sunday crying and fretting, which was very bizarre because I’d never been that way about a new job before. I worked for three days but decided on the second that the reason I’d been in such an awful mood and so upset and stressed since we got back was because I just wasn’t comfortable working for a place that encouraged and promoted the idea that if you want to be beautiful, you come to us and we’ll give you as many boob jobs, facelifts and botox injections as you can handle, and then you’ll be attractive. It went against everything I believed about beauty and I felt pretty much like I was betraying myself in working there. It was a nice environment and the people were nice, but I couldn’t let myself be okay with working in a role that contributed to one of the things I consider wrong with the world today. So after a few sleepless, tear-filled nights, and consequently being a huge cow to my wonderful boyfriend who stood by me for standing up for my morals, I quit. I felt like I was letting everyone down. But I have an interview in an hour with Manitoba Music – they asked me on the phone if I had an interest in music and the arts. HELLO. This place sounds like HEAVEN! So fingers crossed, next time I write it’ll be about my awesome new job.

I’d also really like to say how grateful I am for a certain few people in my life right now, and you know who you are. Love to you all.

Moving forward

The last week has been an absolute whirlwind but I’m back and definitely on top of things. It was a pretty rubbish week, to be honest: for the first time in my life I actually started initiating big changes, and it was all a little overwhelming and stressful. Prior to now, my big life changes have been a result of a breakup, bad roommates, being fired (just the once and I swear through no fault other than being honest!!), or my parents hopping over to another continent. But last week I decided I was going to start 2009 as I mean to go on. I’ve had a few bad experiences at my current job and when it came to my toes almost freezing off thanks to my boss and then her yelling at me for it, I just decided to really get things in action. My lovely boyfriend put me in touch with a contact he had at a recruitment agency, and I went in, met with a lovely lady who set me up with an interview on Sunday, and on Monday I found myself hired at the First Glance Aesthetic Clinic. I work for a plastic surgeon!! I’m very nervous but it’s a good solid job that’ll be more exciting (and have actually coworkers! Huzzah for human contact!) that I get to start in the new year. I also filled out all the forms and applied to sublet my apartment at the end of January, which meant getting the wheels moving on actually showing the place to people. So last week was a big step in moving forward. But it was a little stressful, and on top of that, wondering about how I’m going to pay January’s rent solo, worrying about if I’ll do a good job at this new place… I had to give up Chloe.

This was also something that happened far quicker than I imagined. With the job, I’d applied, was interviewed and hired within 4 days. With Chloe, I’d made the decision (thanks to a suggestion from Amber) to find her a decent home where she’d actually be around people and given the attention she needs. I loved her with all my heart and she was the best cat you ever could’ve wished for, but she needed a lot of attention and I was just gone 10 hours out of every day and asleep for another 7 so it didn’t leave very much Chloe time, and she was just distressed and peeing all over my things, so I figured if I found her somewhere she’d be happier, it was better for everyone in the long run… I posted an ad, and didn’t expect a reply within a day. A nice young family with a daughter and two other cats wanted to take her in, and I made sure that she was going to be loved and taken care of. The husband said he loves his cats “like his babies” and she’d be in a good home, which I was welcome to come see if I wanted… and they picked her up the following day. Sweet and I sat there for the half hour leading up to it and I was just crying, and she was cuddled on his lap in silence. It was a horrible feeling. Then I got the phone call – the guy was outside. Through my tears I told him the address, and he said “you’re not happy about this, are you?” I told him how much I loved her but I just wanted her to have the best life she could, and so she went last Friday evening to her new home. She hopped right into the cat-carrier, something she’s never done before – almost like she knew she was going. After she left I sat in the hallway just bawling out loud. I went in and Sweet and I hugged for a good while and spent the rest of the evening being there for each other. She was a wonderful cat and we both loved her to pieces. But I know she’s going to be happier being looked after by a nice family… I still miss her terribly.

I’ve never been great at dealing with stress and so I was not a very fun person to be around last week. But luckily for me I have one very wonderful friend and one very wonderful boyfriend who put up with me and reminded me that this was all the start of a new beginning and how much I had to look forward to… and they were right, and they were there for me, and I love them both to pieces.

The weekend came and I ended up at an amazing power metal concert on Saturday night and the Metric show on Monday night, watched a great X Factor finale and started the week off with spirits high. Yesterday I officially resigned, tomorrow I see my lovely girls (and get to have cheesecake!), and Friday will wrap up a busy 2 weeks with a lovely old fashioned date night with dinner and a movie. Oh, and my roommate is moving out early. Last night I witnessed his bed, desk, and computer being hauled away so he is officially no longer sleeping at the apartment, with a promise to be moved out by this weekend. This makes this a ver good week indeed. 🙂

The day I almost lost my toes

Yesterday I lost all my shoes. It could’ve been worse, I suppose – it could’ve been my toes, but it was still a very distressing horrible day. I don’t usually have a whole lot of bad things to say when I write and I apologise for the upcoming vent.
I got up bright and early at 6:30 so I’d have some time to clean my apartment a bit as I knew I was going to be showing it to potential subletees when I got home from work. I swept and mopped and then made myself a nice cup of tea and some breakfast, and sat down and started watching an episode of Casualty. A while in, I hear some scratching coming from by my front door. Rose Kitten is sitting quietly on the couch, so I get up to see what it is. Any early morning chipperness was quickly replaced by an awful sinking feeling in my stomach. Chloe, my usually well-behaved sweetheart of a cat, was wiping her feet just as she does after going to the litter box… on a pile of all my winter shoes . I quickly shoed her away, but the damage was done. There was cat pee all over every pair of shoes I own.

I’ve had cats pee on my stuff before. I’ve had to replace mattresses and duvets in the past because no matter how much you wash it, the smell never goes away. So yesterday morning began with throwing all my shoes into big bin bags, and throwing them all away. I was mortified. Probably about 6-8 pairs in total, including my only pair of running shoes, brand new knee-highs I hadn’t even worn yet, ankle boots, work shoes… and my winter boots I need every day to walk to work in.

Winter boots I’d need in fifteen minutes to walk to work in. I called my dear boyfriend in a panic, realising after he picked up that this wasn’t going to bring my shoes back, but vented anyway. He suggested putting plastic bags over my feet and then putting the boots on – but as much as I love him and as good as his intentions were, I couldn’t bring myself to touch the Cat Pee Shoes let alone walk for 40 minutes in them. So I called my boss, who had a wonderful idea. I still had all my summer shoes – put a pair of those on, and she’d come pick me up on the way in! I’d only be outside for a minute, and could get to work and not arrive smelling of urine. Awesome. I went and grabbed a pair of open-toe sandals from my storage closet and put them over my socks. I still had bags of shoes and rubbish to throw out before my apartment showings, and I was going outside anyway, so I braved the blizzard and ran to the back and threw them out. This took a couple of trips, and then my boss called. She was on my street, but didn’t know exactly whereabouts I lived, so asked me to come wait on the side of the road.

I waited. And waited. Did I mention the blizzard? Finally after what seemed like an eternity of walking pretty much barefoot in snow and ice and minus 25, she called again. “Where are you? I’m at Sobeys”. Blinking back tears from the pain I told her she’d gone too far, and to turn around. “Well come over to the other side of the road so I can see you. I’m at the stop lights, I’ll be a bit. Traffic’s crawling.” I shuffled across Taylor in my sandals and waited on the other side of the road until finally she pulled up. At this point I was crying because my feet hurt so bad.

She figured it was because I had to throw out my shoes, and proceeded to rant about how stupid I was for keeping a cat that had cost me $1000 in the last 6 months and kept peeing all over my stuff. How I needed to put myself first and stop being irrational and that it was just a stupid cat who’s “ruining my life”. I got to work and I knew something was wrong. I went to the bathroom and took off my socks… to find my toes looking like this:
Ouch

I freaked out a little bit. This is why it’d hurt so bad!! I couldn’t walk, and she had a client waiting for her, who kindly offered to drive me to a clinic or to the drugstore to pick something up… but I said I’d be fine and he rescheduled to come in at 4:00 instead. My boss then started yelling at me again. “You can’t work like this, why does something always happen?? If you’re not here, I can’t make any money because I have to reschedule all my appointments and miss out on making money. And if I don’t make any money then I can’t pay you your vacation pay.”

I sat there and listened to her rant, not once acknowledging how much pain I was in. She agreed to let me go home once her husband arrived with some bandages and polysporin, and to sit in her office until he did. She clocked me out at 10:30 “because I can’t pay someone for sitting here and not working.” He arrived at twelve. I wrapped my feet up, hobbled into the truck, and he gave me a lift home.

I spent the day thinking about what she’d said about my cat, and I got ridiculously upset every time I did. It’s true: I have spent over $1000 in the last six months replacing furniture, bed linen, result-less vet bills and now 8 pairs of shoes – and I am trying to get out of debt. As well, she sheds an insane amount and I have people that no longer come over because it’s impossible to get it off my sofas, and it gets all over their clothes. But at the same time when I adopted her I signed something that said I was responsible for her living a safe and healthy and love-filled life. I couldn’t bear to think of giving her back to a shelter – even if it was a no-kill shelter, just thinking of her in a cage like that not knowing where she is, I just about bawled every time I thought of it yesterday. I’d feel like an awful human being because I love her so much. But I don’t know what to do. Do I keep sacrificing in order to make sure my little cat is safe and loved? Or do I “put myself first for once” and not get all my stuff wrecked, but feel like the worst person ever. I don’t know if I could bring myself to do it. I just don’t know what to do.

What I do know though, is that I’m looking for new jobs. I’m meeting with a recruiter tomorrow morning, and I have an interview at Great West Life on the 23rd. I’m in a huge dilemma about my poor cat. But at least I might be getting a new job… and I got to keep my toes.

Nots

I’m not an extrovert or an introvert. I’m not as outgoing as I was ten years ago… but I’m not as shy as I was two years ago. I’m not comfortable being the centre of attention, but I’m not one to fade into the background either. I’m not a follower of fashion, but I still like to look good. I’m not capable of curling my own hair. I’m not a party animal, but will make every effort to occasionally go to a local indie music night just to be surrounded by the fun and energy of a group of people with a common love of something that’s not part of the mainstream. I’m not as into reading as I am at heart. This is something I’d very much like to change. I’m still not a Canadian citizen and I don’t know if I ever will be – this country has been good to me but I still don’t feel entirely like it’s “home”. I’m not a gossip – if you’re not part of the problem or the solution, then nothing positive is going to come of passing on stories. I’m not going to stop giving to my sponsor child or owning animals even if I am living in my overdraft. Kindness is more important than money. I’m not going to be someone I’m not in order to fit in. Maybe this doesn’t make me the most popular kid on the block, but true relationships are infinitely more fulfilling even if their number is few. I’m not sure where I’m going to be in ten years. Heck, I’m not sure where I’m going to be in five years. I’m not going to settle for a job where I’m taken advantage of and unappreciated for much longer. I’m not a fighter. Sometimes you have to take a breath and look at the big picture before you decide your next move. I’m not however scared to stand up to you if you mistreat someone I love. I’m not sure where I stand spiritually, but it’s something that’s growing and evolving constantly. I’m not sure what that means. I’m not a driver. In the past walking Winnipeg winters has been something to complain about, but there’s better things in life to focus my energy on than things I cannot change. I’m not afraid to tell you the truth: if I say something you might not want to hear, it’s probably because I care about you more than you realise and I honestly think it’s for your own good. I’m not who I used to be: I’ve had a few bad experiences but I’m not one to self-pity; I’ve learned from my mistakes and become a better person because of them, with the help of a few very good hearted people. I’m not afraid to tell you about the past, because I know the people that don’t care or judge me for it will still be in my future. I’m not going to hold back on telling you how thankful I am you’re in my life. If I care about you, you mean a lot, and I’m going to tell you that – even if it is weird. I’m not as into video games as I used to be – I find myself feeling guilty if I spend 3 hours in a virtual world of make believe, but will happily spend the same time in a literary one. I’m not a neat freak but I refuse to live in a dirty or messy apartment. A bit of clutter is a sign of a creative mind. I’m not ever going to find anyone more amazing than the love I have right now, and I’m not going to go a single day without stopping to be thankful for that.

Thanks to Kyla Bea for passing along the idea for this post. You’re right, it was harder than it looks!!

“I can’t come to work today, the customers smell too bad”

I don’t mind my job. My boss can be a little trying at times, but on the whole I get to work pretty much solo, listen to BBC radio all day long, make friends with the old people, be creative and design cool things, and even the occasional photography field trip. I don’t call in sick – I’ve finished my shift having thrown up on the job, I’ve dragged myself in with man flu and even showed up with a broken arm before being sent to the hospital. But there’s been an issue recently that’s made it pretty much – no, absolutely – unbearable to work.

The Lady That Smells Bad.

This isn’t a regular case of B.O. we’re talking about here. She looks like a homeless person, and comes in off the streets with numerous bags housing goodness only knows what (open cans of 6-month-old tuna is what I’ve settled on). She’s dressed in a tilly hat covered in poppies pinned on from the last fifty years, an oversized man’s coat, a pair of glasses that look like they belong to Trevor Horn, and accompanied by the worst smell I’ve ever had the misfortune of encountering. I can’t even describe it. I seriously doubt she’s had a bath in the last twenty years, and her clothes are stuffy and musty and just outright dirty. My boss’s husband stands by me on this and last time he was in, he opened the back door, despite it being minus 20 degrees outside.

She sits in here for hours at a time, cutting and pasting together little posters for church events that happened 2 months ago so she can make photocopies and put them up again. She was in here yesterday for two and a half hours – the latter half hour of which I could no longer stand, and after coughing and involuntarily gagging several times, I begged my boss if I could work in her office until she left. This morning she and I had a talk about how we’re going to deal with this. I looked up on a few sites as to whether or not you can actually ban someone from your store for smelling bad. Concensus was that if it’s your store, and you’re not discriminating based on age, race, religion or whatever, and it’s actually disruptive to your workplace – you can kick them out.

But the boss told me it’s my job to do it.

She came in again this morning. I was in the middle of helping someone and so I asked my boss if she could help her. Seeing who it was, she said to her “Emily will have to help you, she’ll just be a minute.” Thanks boss. Thankfully she was in and out today in 5 minutes so I didn’t have to bring it up. But who knows the next time she’s going to spend the afternoon here? Sweet suggested writing a note and handing it to her so I don’t embarrass her out loud, which I thought was a pretty good idea. I’ve also had suggestions of blatantly spraying air freshener when she comes in, or even bringing my own gas mask to work. Seriously though – how do I politely and tactfully tell someone they can’t be here because they smell so bad I can’t work? It’s pretty much the rudest thing you could say to somebody. And I have absolutely no idea how to do it.

Christmas with the Cops

This weekend went by way too quickly and I don’t even know where to begin! I guess a good place would probably be on Saturday morning… which I spent in the company of two of the Winnipeg Police Force. You guys all know about my roommate situation: he’s stolen from me, is a walking health hazard, and is generally a complete prat, and this last week I came home to find myself unable to get into my own bedroom. Recently, I’d had a lock fitted on the door to prevent further things being stolen (and to prevent him entering and stealing usage of the new Internet account I’d had to set up after all the money I’d been funnelling to him for ours went straight into his bank account… and got us disconnected). This had worked pretty well until last Wednesday, when I got home to find that my key no longer fit. After several failed attempts with hair pins and credit cards (I knew I should’ve stayed in burglary school), two of my favourite people in the world helped me cut off my insect screen from the bedroom window, and after climbing up through thoroughly negative winter temperatures and a copious amount of snow, I hopped in. A total ninja moment which I thoroughly enjoyed. My dad proceeded to remove the lock and doorknob and replace it with another, and took the jammed one home for further inspection. The next evening I got a voicemail. He’d taken it apart to find the end of a broken key, jammed in the lock. My flatmate had actually tried to break in.

I was infuriated!! It was about 11:30 at night and I’d spent an hour trying to curl up with cats who wanted to do otherwise, so I got up, made some warm milk (closet grandma, I tell you) and checked my messages. I found myself with a ridiculously strong urge to find him at work and punch him in the face. There’s not a lot of things that’ll get me angry, but this was definitely one of them. I spent the next hour talking to a good friend who calmed me down, and the next couple of days seeking advice from friends on what I should do. I talked to the landlord, who couldn’t legally do anything because he was still paying rent and still on the lease. So we came to the conclusion that the police now had to be notified as it was now officially attempted breaking and entering. I called them, and that’s how my weekend began.

Two cops showed up at my place on Saturday morning. I told them what had been going on, they asked if he was home, and, it being 11:00 on a weekend morning, naturally my flatmate was still in his bedroom, passed out and more than likely hungover. The best part of this day was seeing the police hammering on his bedroom door shouting “OPEN UP, IT’S THE POLICE” and dragging him out of bed through a frightfully embarrassing bedroom full of dirty plates and cigarette butts. Actually, make that the best part of the last six months of living with him. They spent a little while in his room and came out to tell me the bad news: they couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t get a protection order against him because we weren’t in a relationship and were just roommates and there hadn’t been any actual violence or threats. Couldn’t get him evicted because both our names are on the lease and they couldn’t break a lease. And the best part, couldn’t do anything about the breaking in because he “didn’t do it to break in… just to piss me off because I’d been nagging him to clean up after himself.” Is it just me, or is that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? A friend said he’s found a new line of crime: throwing bricks through my flatmate’s window “not to break it or anything, just to piss him off.” Ri-diculous.

The rest of the day was pretty good though. Finally finished up my Christmas shopping, and boy am I glad I did it before December struck. This does mean I am officially a hardcore poor person for the next two weeks but it also means I don’t have to endure Christmas Shoppers. It was bad enough on Saturday. People with trolleys and bags and prams just barging in front of you just so they get their hands on that video game before it sells out. Good cheer and respect for fellow human beings is thrown out the window, replaced by a goal to buy, buy, and buy some more. I went to St. Ignatius last night and the pastor was talking about this. What comes over people in December to make them behave in ways they wouldn’t normally dream of? There was a story in the paper this weekend too, about a Wal-Mart employee who got trampled to death by Christmas shoppers, who didn’t stop to help. A life was lost as a result of this seasonal insanity, and a pregnant woman pushed over and injured. I’m very glad to be done my Christmas shopping, and most of it online, too. But if you still have gifts to buy, please keep your basic human decency intact!

Went to a wonderful concert in the evening; Steve Bell was playing with the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra. It was totally sold out, and it was just a wonderful evening with wonderful music, a good message (he was giving away free booklets and DVDs on “Fast for Change”, after a trip to Ethiopia, after really realizing how much we overconsume in Canada) and Christmas spirit. We wrapped up the evening with some friends at Luxalune for a quick drink and then proceeded to spend the next three hours just talking. It’s crazy how sometimes time can fly so quickly. 🙂

Yesterday we put up the tree and I am officially ready for Christmas. This month has so much to look forward to. Tonight I get to spend with a wonderful friend in amazing seats at Lord of the Dance, I have the theatre and the Cannes Lions, an annual tradition that I always enjoy thoroughly. Later in the month I have two concerts, then there’s going to be probably the best Christmas I’ve had in years. And then I get to see one of my favourite people in the world, live on a boat somewhere close to the Hollywood Hills, and then spend New Year’s with a group of people very dear to my heart. Flatmate incidents aside, I think this month might just be the best one yet. At least I have a good story… 🙂

Crossroads

Sometimes I really wish I had a laptop, or even just a notebook and a pen to carry around with me. I think I’m going to invest in a journal. I spend a lot of time on buses, or walking around the city, and that makes for a lot of time spent taking in the outside world and dreaming about different possibilities. I often find myself composing mental letters too. If you were here with me right now, what would I be saying to you? Your physical presence may be missing, but you’re still in my thoughts…

I found my thoughts wandering on Saturday evening, a really lovely night half spent in lovely company at the theatre, and half spent solo, hanging out in a downtown coffee shop, curled up on a couch by the fireplace after a long winter’s stroll. I sat down with a steaming mug of tea in a deserted Second Cup; the city’s crowds stolen by bright and bustling hotspots far away from my little retreat. I pulled off my mitts, pulled out a book and began to read, and the experience immediately threw me back to my university days. I used to spend hours between classes sitting in coffee shops just like this one, reading for study, for fun, or writing notes and the occasional letter. And I loved it. Sometimes I even walked back down to the university on a Saturday night, and headed straight up to the library. I remember it vividly; on such an evening what it lacked in bodies it more than made up for in scenery, and I’d sit by the big glass window and watch the sun go down on the city, people below heading home as the day said goodbye and the night took over in front of my eyes.

Sitting there on Saturday night brought this all back to me, and reminded me how much I loved this. It also substantiated a thought I’d been hibernating for the last little while. School. I desperately want to go back. The whole reason I left in the first place wasn’t just because I couldn’t afford it, but also to take some time to figure out what I wanted to do. It’s been almost 4 years now and until recently I’d been pretty sure it was graphic design and photography. But sitting there reading my book, half reminiscing and half glancing over the words, my thought process was abruptly interrupted and my eyes fixed fast on a sentence that, rather creepily in its timing, really hit home. Use your talents to help others.

When I was in university, I took quite a few courses in psychology and I seriously wanted to continue with a degree in the subject. My efforts were discouraged, my mother telling me “everybody has a degree in Psychology and never does anything with it”, and this played a large part in my taking some time off, but even recently, with a near future in graphics in mind, I’d had the goal of becoming a psychologist in mind for later in life. I sat there and read the words again. Use your talents to help others. I asked myself the question, if my ultimate goal is a career involving helping people, why would I put that off just to have a few years doing something that sure, is fun, and I’m pretty good at, but fundamentally doesn’t help anybody on any really deep level. Plus, with technology advancing at the rate it is, even amateur photographers are becoming able to take professional level shots, and with software being so easily available, I’m pretty sure the demand for graphic designers is going to go down with everyone trying to do things by themselves. Yes I want to be creative. But I want to help people more.

So this puts me in a tough spot. I’ve spent the last four years trying to figure out what it is I want to do. Growing up I always thought it was teaching. I have an intense love and passion for learning and education in general, but I can’t for the life of me stand up in front of a group of people and instruct. I’ve recently been given a phenomenal opportunity involving going back to school next year, an opportunity for which I am immensely grateful and at the same time extremely excited. But registration deadline is February, and I don’t know whether to enrol at Red River and do 2 years in Graphic Design, or re-enrol at the U of W, and spend the time finishing a degree in Psychology. Would I ever get a job with a psych degree? Would I be able to keep a job with graphic design?

I’m at a crossroads; I have been for a while. Take a left, and it looks like a pretty safe road. I go into familiar territory; something I already know I’m good at and already have 3 years working experience in. But who am I helping? Taking a right and it’s a whole new world. Throwing an arts kid into a field of science. A few years of intense schooling and not even knowing what lies at the end of it. Nothing… but the hope that I’d able to do some good for others. Which way do I go?

The Abominable Snowsuit

As you probably all know, I don’t drive. It’s not like I never tried; in high school I made full use of being in Grade 12, and enrolled in the Driver’s Ed program. This was a disaster, although I had a series of “eventful” lessons with a lovely instructor and a good friend of mine. Still, a few weeks of mid-January night time lessons later, I was sufficiently frightened for life, and to this day have remained faithfully bus-bound.

This year however, I moved to Taylor Avenue. This street has one bus going down it, maybe once an hour, and it doesn’t go anywhere close to my work. So I’ve been walking. It’s good exercise and it’s free, and until this week I thought I was going to be alright, firm in a hopeful belief that winter wasn’t really all that bad… as long as I had my Big Headphones and Big Mitts, right? Sadly though, this week I was forced to accept that my wishful thinking really was a wasted effort, and admit defeat. Winter: 1, Emily: 0. I’ve been arriving at work with legs glowing scarlet and skin frozen to the touch, and even with my trusty mitts and headphones, still not the happiest of bunnies. So I made the decision to get a snowsuit.

I had one a few years ago. It was black, and consisted of a pair of padded trousers with a high waist and straps that went over your shoulders. You could wear it under a winter jacket and be absolutely toasty on the longest of walks and the coldest of nights, and it could pass as a regular pair of black trousers so you didn’t draw too much attention to yourself. Unfortunately I’ve put on a bit of weight since then, and it definitely doesn’t fit any more. And the legs were always too short anyway. I’ve spent the last few days looking around online, only to find either rubbishy “wind protector pants” with no padding or anything, or exactly what I am looking for… for $300. It came up in conversation with my boss, and she said she had a spare snowsuit she could give me for the winter. Huzzah! So, today she brought it in.

horror

It’s neon green. It has emo stripes on half the sleeves. It’s got a weird pattern across the top, and sweaty yellow stains around the neck. And she wants me to try it on so I can wear it home tonight.
Maybe she thought my walk home involved heading down Pembina and then taking a sharp right into 1984 where this thing may have almost been acceptable. Did I mention the neon green? This thing is fluorescent. Heck, if I did drive, I wouldn’t need head headlights, ‘cause I’m pretty sure this thing would glow on its own for a decent 10 feet. And it smells funny!

horror

So I have precisely four and a half hours to come up with an excuse not to have to come into physical contact with this abomination (or explain its sudden mysterious disappearance). And I’m begging you guys for help.

More engines, please

I had every intention of writing this morning, but unfortunately my self-induced waking coma prevented me from making any sort of sense whatsoever and I decided, both for your benefit and mine, to wait until it had somewhat worn off.

I’ve spent much of the last week in various attempts at rescuing my computer after it got a nasty attack of spyware, and decided (reluctantly) to give up and wipe the bloody thing and restart from scratch. I tried burning everything to DVDs with the help of my dad’s portable DVD burner, but it conked out on me after about 3 discs and I was stuck with my own, which I got to burn my photos and some music at a cheery rate averaging at about 90 minutes per disc. 8 discs and half a season of House later, I gave up and prepared myself for a teary goodbye to an entire hard drive’s worth of music, movies and UK TV shows, and it was carted off early Sunday morning.

The problem with this was one little mp3 file I use nightly. 60 Minutes of Pure White Noise. After trying various background sounds to drown out whiny cats and noisy room mates at night, I found the perfect file. Seagulls, raindrops and typewriters (with AND without carriage return, though it was nice to have the option) all failed miserably, but the soft sound of plane engines somehow did the trick. For the last few weeks I’ve been falling asleep and able to stay asleep with a pair of earplugs and a sleeping mask, with the comforting reassurance of feeling like I’m on a transatlantic flight. Lose the computer, however, and the night is suddenly full of too much silence. Being the lightest sleeper in the world, every tiny thing wakes me up. So naturally this is what happened last night. Well, for the first 45 minutes anyway, until I defiantly refused to go on tossing and turning and came up with the brilliant decision of making myself a cocktail of 3 Gravol tablets and 2 night time flu relief caplets, all washed down with a mug of warm milk. It sure did the trick, but I woke up this morning feeling like I’d just had an entire bottle of wine.

I tried to get up. After stumbling around a bit and walking around with my eyes closed, I reset my alarm and gave myself another half hour in bed. I didn’t have the energy to do my hair or makeup and I stood in my boots by the door, looking at my scarf and mitts on the upper shelf debating for a good 5 minutes whether or not I had the energy to reach up and get them. I somehow managed a sluggish walk to work, but refrained from typing anything important for the first few hours after I saw what I’d sent to Miss Kyla. I had no idea I used the words you01u and ggoodd so often!

Right now I’m contemplating going home early. Today I’ve successfully made a pot of coffee-less boiling water in the coffee machine, printed an entire order on the wrong stock, laminated an empty pouch and charged typing prices for printing. I don’t think I’m any good here. I hope my computer’s nice and safe and home tonight. Otherwise I’ll be calling somebody up and asking them to make plane noises for me.

Fireworks and Poppies

So it’s been a pretty eventful little while since I last wrote, but my lack of updating can be attributed to the UBER VIRUSY SPYWARE I picked up when I downloaded an episode of Heroes last week. It was a .rar file whose extraction turned out to be unleashing Pandora’s Box onto my hard drive, redirecting all my web searches to porn sites and closing down every program seconds after I opened it. Luckily though, my dad’s pretty nifty with computers, and whisked it away last night, fixed it all and I’ll be getting it back tonight good as new. My dad is awesome.

Last week shortly after the election we had Guy Fawkes Day, a time of year which finds me feeling awfully nostalgic for the one day of the year where thousands of people gather together in cities all over England, marching around with torches, candy floss and sparklers, burning huge great effigies of Guy Fawkes on bonfires and marvelling as enormous fireworks displays light up the skies. It’s not done this side of the pond. And the last few years I’ve made a few efforts to have some sort of Guy Fawkes magic…

Fail

But for the first time this year… we bought fireworks. Unfortunately you have to have a permit to set off any of the big ones that go up into the sky, but we got HUGE sparklers, things that fizzed and banged and The Fountain. We were assured we were only being sold ones that would stay pretty low to the ground and wouldn’t make any noise, so we wouldn’t have to worry about drawing attention to ourselves. We saved the big one for last, expecting a nice little colourful fountain of sparks, which we definitely got… for the first five seconds. Then it went up about seven feet high, sparking and banging as big as a bonfire, and WHISTLING louder than I’ve ever heard a firework whistle in my life. Neighbours started coming out of their houses to see what was going on. We couldn’t stop it, so we waited it out… but I can definitely say that was about as much fun as you can have at 9:00 on a November evening for less than $4. 🙂

Win!

This week was also Remembrance Day. Sweet and I went to the service at the Convention Centre – I’d never gone to one with anyone else before, but we went and I was really happy to see so many people turn out to pay their respects. I’m always deeply moved by Remembrance Day services and I really think it’s important to take the time, even if you don’t go to a service, just to take a few minutes of silence at 11:00 to think about those who went and fought, wives that lost their husbands, soldiers who lost their friends… families that had to go through such an awful time, and all for the freedom so many of us take for granted today. I wept the whole service, thinking of those who spent night after night in the cold and the rain in battle, praying for the days a letter from their loved ones would arrive… Today we text, and we call, and we e-mail so easily and so often; it’s so hard to imagine going weeks and weeks before a treasured page of kind words and thoughts and news from afar would arrive. And yet with the ease of communication technology has afforded us, it seems we tell each other less, not more, how much we care about each other. So in the spirit of Remembrance Day just past, I hope if you’re reading this, you can take a moment to think about how it must have been to spend such treacherous time apart from your most beloved, how joyous it must have been to hear a few words of love after weeks of knowing nothing, and just be thankful for everything we have today.

DAVID TENNANT LEAVING DR. WHO :(

David Announces He’s Leaving Doctor Who

David has announced that he is leaving Doctor Who during his acceptance speech at tonight’s National Television Awards.
Speaking live from the Courtyard Theatre in Stratford Upon Avon David explained that he will be returning to Cardiff in January 2009 to film the 2009 Doctor Who specials, but when the show returns for a new series in 2010, it will be without him as the Doctor.

David said: “I’ve had the most brilliant, bewildering and life-changing time working on Doctor Who. I have loved every day of it.  It would be easy to cling on to the Tardis console but I fear that if I don’t take a deep breath and make the decision to move on now, I never will.  You would be prising the Tardis key out of my cold, dead hand. This show has been so special to me, I don’t want to outstay my welcome.”

He added: “This is all a long way off, of course. I’m not quitting, I’m back in January to film four special episodes which will take Doctor Who all the way through 2009. I’m still the Doctor all next year but when the time finally comes I’ll be honoured to hand on the best job in the world to the next lucky git, whoever that may be. I feel very privileged to have been part of this incredible phenomenon. I’m looking forward to new challenges but I’ll always be proud to be the 10th Doctor.”

The following interview with BBC News is about David’s decision to leave the show:

Why have you decided to say goodbye to Doctor Who?
When I first started back in 2005, I always thought that if it worked out, three years would be about the right time.

Three years, three series. Which I did and I loved and I had a great time. And with Russell T Davies and Julie Gardner [executive producers] leaving, that became a very natural stepping off point for me.

What became very difficult was when it was announced that Steven Moffatt was taking over because I’m such a fan of his, he’s such a great writer, he’s written such amazing stories for me in Doctor Who already.

The prospect of hanging around for a while and enjoying working with him was sorely tempting and very nearly changed my mind.

But I think it’s better to go when there’s a chance that people might miss you, rather than to hang around and outstay your welcome.

What’s your message to the fans?

When I was a kid, I loved Doctor Who, I grew up with it. For me, it was the most exciting time when the Doctor changed.

You know he’s on his way out, you know something terrible’s going to happen, it’s very exciting – and then you’ve got this whole new character to look forward and wonder about.

It’s very exciting and it’s part of what makes Doctor Who so great. I’m excited as a viewer to see what happens next.

Russell T Davies must have given you some hints about what your exit will be like?

No! He hasn’t. I do not know what he’s thinking about. But Russell being Russell, I’m sure it’ll be a send off to be proud of.

What are your memories of the last three-and-a-bit years?

It’s been the most extraordinary time, it’s been bewildering, life changing, very exciting. And just so much fun, such a great show to work on.

And again I think that’s one of the reasons I think it’s right to take a deep breath and bow out when it’s still fun, when it’s a novelty.

I don’t ever want it to feel like a job, so I want to move on when it still feels exciting and fresh and that means I’ll miss it.

What do you think you’ll miss the most?

I think I’ll miss all the people who work on the show. I’ll miss Russell’s fantastic scripts and of all the other writers who work on it.

And I’ll miss playing this character. I don’t think there’s a better character on television. He gets to be everything – he gets to be funny and intense, he’s a hero but he’s also a bit of a clown, he’s an anarchist but he’s strong and dependable and crazy. Like mercury one minute and like steel the next.

And to get the chance to play all those things for 45 minutes on a Saturday night – I’ll miss that I’m sure.

As an actor, do you think you’ll always be known as Doctor Who?

I think it’s one of those parts that does that does follow you around, yeah. I know a couple of the old Doctors and it’s clearly still a part of their life. I think the public has such an enthusiasm for it and such an intrigue for the show, that once you’ve been part of it it does tend to stick to you like glue.

But that’s fine – it’s something I’m very proud to be forever associated with.

Do you think you’ll ever do anything as special as Doctor Who again?

It’s difficult to know.… I think the cross-generational, cross-cultural appeal of Doctor Who is pretty unique. I can’t think of anything else that has fans who are seven and 70 in almost equal measure.
It’s difficult to think of what else one might do that could rival that. I hope I’ll do things that will be as exciting and as thrilling artistically and professionally, obviously, but I think Doctor Who is pretty unique.

How has Doctor Who changed your life – it must have had great positives and great negatives?

Obviously the great positive is I get to be involved in this show I’m desperately proud of, and I get to work on these great scripts and I get to play this incredible character.

I suppose it has a level of public scrutiny and attention which is very flattering and kind of thrilling to be in the middle of, but also bewildering, and sometimes it does make make you famous in a way that was never a particular intention of mine.

It’s churlish to complain about, but it does bring certain tensions to your life which you might not always choose to have. But I knew what I was getting into, that’s part of the job, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The huge question is – who would you like to replace you?

Well I’ve always been a big supporter of Wee Jimmy Krankie. So the campaign starts here to get Wee Jimmy Krankie in the Tardis and big Ian Krankie as the companion. I think that works.

Whoever your successor turns out to be, what would your advice be to them?

I wouldn’t be as pompous as to offer them advice – I’m sure they’ll sort it out for themselves. Just have fun. It’s the best part around. Enjoy it.

What will it be like for the fans – you’re their Doctor and it will be a huge change for them when you go?

I guess if you were eight when I took over, you’ll be 12 when I leave, which is quite a big time of life isn’t it? But I think that’s one of the exciting parts of being a fan of the show – you know that the doctor can change, the character and the centre of the drama can be a completely different person, and act very different.

It’s not like James Bond, where you know he’s a certain type of man, like Tarzan is a certain type of character, or Sherlock Holmes.

The Doctor can change quite radically, but there’s still an essential Doctor-ness and I’m sure whoever takes over will find their own way of communicating that.
And when I was a kid, Tom Baker turned into Peter Davison, and it was thrilling and extraordinary and a little bit disorientating at first, but in a really exciting way, so I’m excited for everyone else getting to watch that happen. I think it’ll be great.

You’re not leaving immediately – you’ve got another year for the specials. Can you tell us about that?

We’ve already shot the Christmas special for this year called The Next Doctor, which in the circumstances is perhaps a more intriguing title than it was before. We see the 10th Doctor meeting another Doctor.

And then in January we’ll film four more specials, which will be screened throughout next year, and they’ll be the four last stories that I do.

I don’t quite know when they’ll go out, but they’ll go out sometime throughout 2009.