Personal

On Writing… and Reading to Hundreds of Strangers!!

A few weeks ago, I had a bunch of really good news.  We’d booked our trip to England, I was starting my new position at work, Nan was doing better, we’d signed up for dance classes, and I was just about to start my Creative Writing class.  Since then, things have continued to be great.  We’ve discovered Sweet is, hilariously, a NATURAL at ballroom dancing (while I’m still stuck on which foot goes backward) – but each class has been filled with fun and laughter, and it’s the perfect way to start our weekends.  I also phoned my Nan last week – and not only was she thrilled, but apparently she’s well enough to go home – to HER home, not a care home! – within the next two weeks! Work is going well, we’re making all sorts of plans for the UK trip, and Creative Writing class? ALL sorts of awesome.

From WinnipegLoveHate.com

I’m going to tell you a secret: I never finished university. I grew up hugely academic, spending my high school years continually on the honour roll and spent Saturday nights in the university library, reading Chaucer for fun and gazing out at the city’s skyline, as the sky turned from pinks to blues and the streets below came alive. I loved school. I love to learn, to challenge myself, to succeed in something I adore – but at 20 years old, life started to happen.  I’d moved out just as I turned 19, with A Boy, which lasted about a year – we broke up, and after a short stint on my parents’ sofa , I got my first apartment. I was working part time, and had no savings – or furniture – so I reluctantly decided to take some time off from school, get my life in gear, and work for a little bit in the Real World.

I was lucky enough to find jobs that led me toward graphic design. In school, I’d been studying medieval English literature and psychology – which would serve me really well in the real world [ahem] – but through work, I found I loved graphics. I was offered real-world experience, networking opportunities, and the chance to build a real portfolio.  This led me into marketing and advertising, which I adore – but I’ve also realised I have a passion for writing. Blogging has become just about the best hobby I’ve ever had, but I’ve always secretly loved to write fiction, too. I get lost in the worlds of incredible authors, surrendering my mind to their vivid imaginations, and longing to visit these fantastical places in the real world. I love the art of crafting a piece of prose as that’s as beautiful as a masterpiece painting. I love the English language.

Mr Flay appeared to clutter up the doorway as he stood revealed, his arms folded, surveying the smaller man before him in an expressionless way. It did not look as though such a bony face as his could give normal utterance, but rather that instead of sounds, something more brittle, more ancient, something dryer would emerge, something perhaps more in the nature of a splinter or fragment of stone. Nevertheless, the harsh lips parted. ‘It’s me,’ he said, and took a step forward into the room, his knee joints cracking as he did so. His passage across the room – in fact his passage through life – was accompanied by these cracking sounds, one per step, which might be likened to the breaking of twigs.
– From Titus Groan by Mervyn Peake

Isn’t it beautiful? (The text – but yes, Jonathan Rhys Meyers was in the miniseries, we can refer to  him, too :))

So two weeks ago, I started my Creative Writing class. I had all sorts of hopes of meeting new people, of indulging my creative passion, and of a place my imagination could really take flight.  The first class wasn’t quite what I expected – I don’t think the instructor expected a group of only six, either! – but I was in my element.  I’m not usually one to pipe up in groups, but I instantly felt comfortable in a place where creative thinking was encouraged and praised.  In class, we all have to read our assignments and classroom activities out loud in front of each other.  This is slightly intimidating – but I’m hoping may be just the ticket to keep me going on the whole breaking free of fear journey.  Last week, we had to write a “character”, which I initially struggled with – I wasn’t used to having such open-ended assignments! But the second I sat down to write, I couldn’t stop. I ended up with something I was really rather proud of – I can’t use literary techniques and flowerly language on the blog, but I indulged on my assignment. And it went down really well!

We were also told about our final assignment, due in about 8 weeks. It’s open-ended in that it can be a play, a short story, a review, a poem… anything we like. But we’ve been booked a spot at one of the city’s biggest bookstores, where we will do a reading. In public. This is quite possibly one of the most intimidating tasks I’ve ever been given.  The way I got through facilitating my classes at work was to tell myself I was in a position to pass along information that would ultimately help people.  The desire to help surpassed my fear, so I was able to do it, no problem.  But putting something I’ve created out there, where it can be judged by other people? SCARY.

I’m trying to tell myself this is just another stepping stone in my ongoing journey. That I’ve learned how to live without worrying constantly about other people judging me, so I should be able to do the same with my writing.  Hopefully the next few weeks will be practice enough that I won’t bomb it in the end… and I’m feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement.  Let’s just hope the latter dominates.  Until then… hold my hand?

Get Your Freak On Friday

I decided to stick with this (somewhat) ongoing feature – if I’m going to write about something regularly, it may as well be about something I absolutely love. Even if it does mean tumbleweeds!! I hope some of you like the tunes. 🙂

If you haven’t read before, Get Your Freak On Friday is about music, about “what makes you tap your toes, bob your head, wiggle your fingers, cry like an infant, dance like an orangutan, or want to throw things. You list a song you love and what you do because of it.”

Here’s how it works:
1. Paste the button into your post, linking back to Tristan.
2. Write about aforementioned song. Any one you like.
3. Post the link to your post on Tristan’s post’s Mr. Linky.

This week I bring you a track that’s infectiously catchy, overtly quirky, and impossible to sing along to. It’s from an American bloke called Darwin Deez, who just so happens to be going on tour with two of my other current favourites – last GYFOF’s Hurts (which I’m so glad you guys loved!) and the genre-defying Everything Everything. It’s a first-listen favourite, refreshingly different, and the video’s packed full of random hilarity, mad science and singer who rocks the Napoleon Dynamite look a little too well.  Crank this one up and try not to break into dance. Or smiles. Or both. 🙂  Happy weekend! And to my fellow Brits – Happy St. George’s Day!!

In which I spend an hour DECONTAMINATING MY FACE in a bath of BLEACH

So I’ve never actually participated in one of LiLu’s TMI Thursdays, but I’ve been an avid lurker, and always enjoyed people’s stories of utterly (and hilariously) humiliating themselves for the Internet every week. Sadly, the feature is no more – but after what happened to me Tuesday night, I had to share what was quite possibly the single grossest thing that could ever happen to anyone in the history of man.

I was walking the two blocks from work to the bus stop, which, being between large buildings, was naturally a bit of a wind trap. I was behind a guy who was obviously a little rough around the edges, hacking up phlegm and stumbling along his merry way, when he decided to blow his nose. Without a tissue. INTO THE AIR. A full on snot-rocket, let loose to the sky… which whipped around… and landed on my mouth.   Remember that time on Glee, when Ms. Pilsbury had to have three decontamination showers in the ER after a kid barfed all over her shoes? NOTHING ON THIS. I wiped it off in a panic, and spent the next 25 minutes trying not to gag or close my lips, while I waited and sat crying through the bus ride home, where I promptly ran upstairs, through tears and incomprehensible whimpers of contamination, used my toothbrush to SCRUB my lips, brush my teeth, and dashed to the shower where I scoured my face within an inch of its life.

Thankfully NOW I’m clean… but I think it’s a pretty safe bet to say this was probably THE nastiest thing that could ever happen to ANYONE on their way home. EVER.

It’s because I said I didn’t like Winnipeg in the winter, isn’t it? *Shudder*

P.S. Bonus points to Ashley and Brittney for the copious amounts of sympathy on that bus ride home!!

I’m a Legal Alien

I don’t drink coffee, I take tea, my dear,
I like my toast done on one side
And you can hear it in my accent when I talk
I’m an Englishman in New York…

Sting said it so well twenty years ago, and this past Monday, the 19th of April, marked the ten-year anniversary of my living in Canada.  I still vividly remember how I was the day I left home: a young, impressionable, nerdy teenager whose sadness at leaving behind family and friends was balanced by the excitement at the prospect of everything a new continent had to offer.

My parents had taken us to visit Canada once before we moved – three weeks in mid-August, where the city was bathed in sunshine, culture and crowds. We explored neighbourhoods and schools, in one of which I was taken on a tour, soaking in the cliques, the bright colours, the mohawks and the compliments on my accent.  The houses were enormous – I’d be going from living in a house attached at the seams to neighbours we’d hear day and night; children crying, music blaring. The houses here were castles, with basements and three storeys, hardwood floors and space on either side. Approaching  fifteen, I was excited for this adventure.

Soon after we officially arrived, the novelty wore off. I didn’t know anyone. I was put into the IB Program, where the students who actually liked school were given opportunities to fast-track their education, reaching university level courses by the end of high school, and were taught a more challenging, more interesting curriculum. I loved the education, but I didn’t feel I belonged. I watched the “regular program” kids form their friendships, talking of their weekends together, laughing in the hallways, while I sat in the science room eating my lunch, watching the world go by.  I was the quiet new girl, on the outside of something that seemed to have finished forming before I got here.  And, eventually, that was okay.

I spent some time over the next few  years in university, searching for myself, for friends, for a sense of belonging. Anyone who showed the slightest bit of romantic interest in me was given my heart in a hurry, hoping it would be returned in a sense of finally belonging somewhere – to someone. I learned those life lessons the hard way, and my past is littered with naive mistakes, and people, who to this day, continue to define me by them. Yet still, I stand by the belief that those experiences taught me huge amounts about myself, and fuelled my desire to become worthy in my own eyes – to become okay with who I am as a person, and comfortable knowing I’m doing the best I can to be the best person I can.

This city, above everything, has given me an education. An education in school, where I learned how much I loved to – well, learn. Opportunities to learn more about other people, and subsequently about myself. An education in life. And that is quite possibly the most valuable thing I could ever have. But still, ten years later, this city doesn’t feel like home. I don’t look upon it as comforting, nor do I look upon it as something I’m particularly proud of belonging to.  It’s full of things and people that hurt me. It’s bitterly cold for at least six months out of twelve, with temperatures plunging to minus thirty, where people are surrounded by darkness and cold and don’t venture out of their homes unless they have to. The cold kills my back so much. A huge percentage of people here are on social welfare, and choose to remain that way, rather than taking advantage of the resources available to help them achieve independence (I sound horrid, but I’ve worked in the system). I carry leaflets with resources in my purse instead of change. The sidewalks are covered in spit and litter, and the air is filled with cursing and inanity. On 20th of April every year, hundreds of people gather at the city’s legislative building and advocate for smoking marijuana and the stoner lifestyle – lazing around, getting high, and wasting away their lives rather than taking in real life, learning, growing, and contributing to society.  For two weeks in June, the city’s abundant trees (which line every street) are taken over by something bizarre called the canker worm – small green worms that build webs down from the leaves and hang from them in the air, resulting in getting caught on your clothes or in your hair. It’s terrifying. The summers are beautiful but are sabotaged by mosquitoes – I moved into this house in January, 2009, excited at the thought of soaking in the skyline view on summer evenings, on the bank of the river… These thoughts remain dreams, as the skies are filled with blood suckers and the house is covered in fish flies.  There are no historical buildings dating further back than maybe a hundred years – no history, no culture, no identity. No feasts for the eyes – the whole province is flatter than Gwen Stefani’s stomach and any road trips are a test in consciousness.  Elsewhere in the world, whole nations band together with pride at what their country has to offer – beautiful architecture, great music, literature – This place seems to have little to offer the world except Neil Young and Slurpees.

It’s a daily goal of mine to count my blessings, and I am lucky to live in a place that isn’t worn-torn or disease-ridden, in a place where I have a good job and a handful of incredible people. For all these things, I’m truly thankful. But I can’t help but feel I belong somewhere else.  A decade is enough to give somewhere, is it not? To try and make it home? I long for the days of living in England, a country of which I remain proud to this day. A country that offers incredible imagination to the world in the form of entertainment, that is proud to preserve historical sites thousands of years old, that has produced some of the greatest literature ever written.  I know there are places elsewhere in the world where I wouldn’t be haunted by people who insist on reminding me of my past. Places where the arts are treasured and promoted, and where the days are long, sunny and warm. Where there’s culture, and mountains, and sea; beautiful buildings, museums, and open skies.  Somewhere to fit in and soak up and feel at home. Somewhere people will welcome me. Somewhere I can feel proud to belong. I feel such a strong calling to get out of this place, but it’s hard when I don’t know where I’m being called to. Australia? A whole new adventure in Ireland, or New Zealand?

My ten year anniversary here is indeed bittersweet, but it’s a chapter of my life I will always cherish, for being full of growth and of learning.  My eyes are open to the possibilities the future may hold, and I’m fuelled by a desire for more. I’m hoping this summer’s trip to England will open my boyfriend’s eyes to the world outside our little city, and who knows, maybe together, we’ll be working towards a common dream… one that isn’t solely mine. It’s so hard to settle when there’s such a big world out there.

Happy ten years, Winnipeg – and thanks for the education.  In the words of the ever-poetic Jason Webley: you may not be my lover, but you’re the map I use to find her. One day, I’ll find somewhere I can call home again.  Until then, I’ll wish hard on my shooting star, and hold onto it tightly until it lands me somewhere I truly belong.

My (Literally) Naked Fear

Recently I’ve been tackling a lot of things that I’m afraid of. You all know about my (almost) past issues with anxiety, and it’s my ongoing goal to try to attempt every single thing that scares me, in the hopes of being able to overcome them.  Public speaking was the absolute scariest.  Throw me out of a plane, put me in a cage full of spiders, no problem, but ask me to stand up in front of people and speak? No thank you! Until about… 6 months ago? I asked my boss if I could facilitate a workshop every week. All eyes on me, thinking on my feet, projecting to a room full of blank faces… biggest fear, let me tell you. But I did it. And I kept doing it. I forced my desire to overcome it to hold more weight than my fear.  And though it started incredibly scarily, the only way to get over it was to take the risk.  Now, I’m still slightly nervous if I have to speak up in front of people, but it’s nowhere near as bad, and it’s no longer something that makes me want to leap out of my office window onto the gob-infested concrete below.

Now, as you know, I’m also terrified of singing in front of people.  Lauren commented on my little poll the other week asking, if I was so afraid of it, and I thought I wasn’t very good at it, then why did I want to do it in the first place? The simplest answer is that I don’t want fear to dictate my life. I don’t want to be held back by what other people might think of me. I enjoy singing, even if my range is  barely an octave.

I adore musical theatre and I get goosebumps when I see a massive choral number taken on in Glee.  I might not be any good, but it doesn’t stop me wanting to try.  So next week? Up goes the vlog. In which I serenade the internet, knowing full well that as well as the kind souls who cheered me on when I first posed the idea… there’ll be people ready to judge. And I’ll try my damnedest to instead focus on the courage it took to do it in the first place – and the fact that I’ll never try and take anyone down if they’re trying to break out of their comfort zone.

Tiny victories fuel my perseverance and determination to keep going, keep taking on the intimidating and riding through on the adrenaline, focusing not on fear, but on triumph, the growing confidence that’s slowly rising, and liberating me from the fear that held me back for so long. I might make a fool of myself in the process. But that’s okay. It’s all about whether or not I think I’m foolish for trying. People may think I’m incompetent, or untalented, or whatever they need to feel in order to make themselves feel better. And that’s okay too. Because at least I’ll have tried.

So, what’s next? Right now, my biggest fear is building the foundation of new friendships.  It’s so easy to do online, where people can take the time to construct their words and sentences, promote their most desirable qualities and hide behind the safety of a computer screen in a tracksuit and greasy hair going on day 3 while posting cropped and Photoshopped pictures on Facebook.  Not so easy to do it in person! I see people I’d love to be friends with – but I also see a similar pattern of being afraid to take a chance. I listen to the voices I carry around telling me “they wouldn’t be interested”, or “I’d be crossing professional boundaries” and worry about being rejected, content to stay in on Friday nights with my cat singing Rock Band to her delightfully non-judgmental and forever loyal little kitten face.  But that’s easy. And those people I want to be friends with? Would be awesome to hang out with instead.  I mentioned my nail girl and my massage therapist a few posts ago, when I was writing about where to find friendship as an adult. WoW doesn’t count. Well, let’s see. I see my nail girl every three weeks. We’ll talk for an hour or so and catch up and I find myself really looking forward to chatting and seeing how she’s doing, hearing her stories and sharing my own.  And wishing I could just have the courage to ask her to hang out sometime, so we could maybe do that more often.  Same thing with my massage therapist, who I see weekly, who’s as big of a nerd as I am, who seems to have the same kind of values I do, and who’s another Trekkie… who hasn’t been introduced to Doctor Who yet.  We’d be great friends! But still, I let that fear of rejection and crossing boundaries prevent me from taking the risk. Though this may have something to do with the fact that all of our conversations take place with me half naked with my face in a hole.  But still. Is that really a good reason for not potentially having a great new friend in my life?

What do you guys think?  Naturally, Facebook would be the easy route… but naturally, both of them have massively high privacy, non-contactable or addable profiles.  I have another appointment this Sunday for a massage, and an appointment on Thursday for my nails. Should I bite the bullet and just see what happens? And how do you do it without coming across a total weirdo?? Tips would be very much appreciated!

Unmasked

Hannah Katy wrote an incredible post last week,  and it inspired me to write about something that’s been a bit of a regular in my life in the last few years.  First and foremost, I’m going to admit something: I despise fakeness. I also despise unnecessary negativity.  And recently, I’ve learned the unfortunate truth that the world, and the Internet, is full of it. But I’ve also learned that, as with so many things in life – you have a choice in how you let it affect you.

Growing up, I spent far too many pretending to be someone I’m not. I think what it came down to was the result of one too many bad relationships, leaving me with a pretty low sense of self-worth and confidence – and I desperately wanted to be seen as popular, to have people to “reaffirm” that I was worth something – at the expense of staying true to myself.

Image from Zemotion

Once I turned eighteen, as I think so many people do, I felt I needed somehow needed to define myself. Define myself with a career goal, with a group of friends, with independence and opinions… with an identity.  Several years went by, and I darted from job to job, boyfriend to boyfriend, friends to friends, in an ongoing endeavour to find myself. Find where I belonged.  Make myself into somebody that fit, in the secret hope that one day I would. You all know I had some rough relationship experiences, and I strongly believe were it not for those hard times, I would have remained the person I was five years ago. What motivation would I have had to change? After the last breakup, I decided this was the time to set standards for myself. To not just settle for anyone.  To be okay by myself and stay true to who I am, even if that meant being alone.  I learned a lot about myself by doing that, and it’s something that’s been an ongoing challenge. Not just in relationships (for the past two years I’ve been blessed with someone who’s believed in me, challenged me, and helped me push myself out of my comfort zone, seeing and believing in my potential) – but in friendships, too.

I don’t know how many of you subscribe to the notion of personality types, but it’s something I’ve always found intriguing, particularly in the Myers-Briggs ideas.  I think it’s fascinating how accurate the descriptions are, not just in terms of personal tendencies, but in how we react to any given situation, whether socially, at work, with other people, or in the face of adversity.  I am an INFJ (the “Protector”) through and through:

INFJs have an exceptionally strong desire to contribute to the welfare of others, and find great personal fulfillment interacting with people, nurturing their personal development, guiding them to realise their human potential. Although they are happy working at jobs (such as writing) that require solitude and close attention, they do quite well with individuals or groups of people, provided that the personal interactions are not superficial, and that they find some quiet, private time every now and then to recharge their batteries. Not usually visible leaders, INFJs prefer to work intensely with those close to them, especially on a one-to-one basis, quietly exerting their influence behind the scenes.

INFJs tend to be devoted to what they believe in and seek work where their needs, values, and ideals can be deeply engaged. INFJs, while concentrating on what is important to them, may ignore the political ramifications of their actions. Being able to talk honestly and comfortably to people at work is much more important to them than ‘playing games.’

The INFJ’s external environment may appear disorganized. Their internal environment, by contrast, is anything but haphazard. Organization of the internal world takes precedence over organization of the external world.

INFJs prefer occupations that focus on the big picture, involve conceptual awareness, and lead to a better understanding of the needs of people. They want their work to have impact and meaning. INFJs value staff harmony and want an organization to run smoothly and pleasantly, themselves making every effort to contribute to that end. They are crushed by too much criticism 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.

Motivated by approval. Growing up, I had a desperate need to be affirmed in everything I did.  Doing things like acting, sports, talent shows, writing stories – being told I was good at something made me feel amazing. Later in life, I was a devout student:  I loved my assignments and I loved getting tests back. Being good at school gave me a sense of self-worth, and only in recent years have I realised why I so easily gave up who I was: to fit in. I needed the approval of others. Fastforward to summer of 2009 when I was crippled with anxiety, too scared to even eat lunch with coworkers for fear of what people may have thought of me. I wasn’t comfortable with who I was because I didn’t know who I was, and so it led me into a shell. Thankfully through determination, perseverance, faith, friends, and Sweet’s encouragement, I’m now at a point where I know who I am. And I know who and what I need (and can do without) in my life.

I am dedicated to making a positive impact in the world. I sincerely want to do all I can to help other people, whether  through my workplace, my personal life, or my blog. One of the many reasons I write is not only to document my life, but to write about the struggles, the bad stuff as well as the good, and overcoming it, in the hope that it might reach someone – and maybe even inspire them. The emails I get on the subject may be few in number, but mean the absolute world to me. Knowing I’ve inspired just one or two people means more than any number of comments ever could. I don’t write to be popular, and I don’t let online time interfere with real life. I’m easily hurt, but I refuse to maintain vendettas or seek revenge. I believe being able to live a good life while maintaining integrity is better than revenge of any sort.  I value interpersonal harmony and am deeply unsettled by conflict, yet I am passionate about my values and beliefs, and blatantly honest. I will always tell you how it is, even if it’s not what you want to hear. But it’s only because I believe in the power of truth.  This has resulted in people cutting ties with me and even getting fired from a job, but I will not keep quiet if there is something important to be said. I will speak up if I believe it’s for the greater good. I will not be taken down by those who continue to define me by my past mistakes – I will focus on continuing to better myself; the person I am becoming because of them. I will not let fear dictate my life. I will question the truth in rumours rather than continue them.  I will not follow the masses and ignore an elephant in a room, but will put a hat on it and maybe even hop on and take it for a ride. People may find that uncomfortable and distance themselves, but I will always stay true to myself. Because that, to me, is more important than popularity. I will write about the good as well as the bad, and refuse to create an online persona – even if that decreases readership. I may not be popular, but I am real. And you know what? I’m 100% okay with that.

80s Time Traps, McCartney & Gaga, and Weapon-Wielding Monarchs: April = AWESOME

Sweet and I aren’t big TV watchers. For the longest time, we didn’t even have cable (only signing up for the “3 months free” promotions, and promptly cancelling at the end of each trial, resulting in a strangely large collection of remote controls, and much to the chagrin of the installation guy). We watch our favourites online, mostly, or on DVD box set – sometimes there’s nothing better on a dreary Saturday than curling up with back to back episodes of Star Trek and a cup of tea! But this month, we had no choice but to succumb. Three of the best programmes on TV are all starting new seasons, and I’m BEYOND excited.

#1: Doctor Who

It’s no secret I’m a huge Whovian and, after a 2-year hiatus and much anticipation for the latest incarnation of the Doctor, it FINALLY returned to our screens last week.  For those of you who’ve never seen it, Doctor Who started back in the 1960s in black and white, and rather low budget, and has continued to this day, remaining the longest running science fiction show in the WORLD. It follows the story of the Doctor, the last of his race, travelling through space and time with various companions, battling evil and saving the Earth. He has the ability to regenerate into a new body near death – and the current series marks the eleventh actor to play the role. I hope it goes on forever!! Generations have grown up “hiding behind the sofa“, and this series’ new writer definitely has a taste for the darker stories – last season had episodes which literally made me afraid to turn off the lights, and this week showed one of the most chilling, and best episodes I’ve ever seen. Humanity fleeing to space after a major catastrophe on the Starship UK, led by a gun-wielding, cape-donning Queen Elizabeth X, going undercover to find out what her government is up to while voters are given the option to “protest” or “forget” – and the Doctor left with a choice between killing the last of a race or saving humanity – this episode was to DIE for.  And next week? Winston Churchill building an army of “English Daleks” to win the war? COUNT ME IN.

#2: Ashes to Ashes

This may VERY well be the new highlight of my week. It’s in its final season and was a spinoff of the amazing Life on Mars (the UK version – please, America, never try and remake anything again…), which, if you didn’t catch, was a sci-fi police drama (I know, brilliant), telling the story of a present-day police officer who is hit by a car, and wakes from consciousness in 1973.  We don’t know if he’s gone back in time, in a coma in the present, or if anything is real – the story is full of wonderfully creepy “signs” he might be in a coma, like hearing present-day voices on the radio, or ’70s television characters stepping out of the TV into his apartment and talking to him about his “real” life…

Ashes to Ashes followed the incredible finale, telling the story of a female police officer (played by Keeley Hawes, of MI-5 and Death at a Funeral fame) who is shot, and inexplicably regains consciousness in 1981.  When she wakes up, she is shocked to meet the head of the same police department she’s read about (in researching what happened in Life on Mars).  Throughout the series, we don’t know whether she is dead or alive in the present day. Gene Hunt, the DCI, is one of the most brilliantly written characters I’ve ever seen. He’s hilariously politically incorrect (“This case is going as fast as a bunch of spastics in a magnet factory“), unnecessarily brutal, and has lines that’ll have you splitting your sides one minute (“I”m not a religious man, Mr Warren – but isn’t there something in the Bible that says, thou shalt not suck off rent boys?”), and full of hope and absolute fear the next. The season 2 finale remains hands-down the best finale of any TV show I have ever seen in my life, and this series is proving to be simultaneously full of wit and spine-tingling chills, leaving me HANGING off the edge of my seat with a blanket half over my eyes.

#3: Glee

I’ll admit I was a bit of a new kid on the Glee block, but since starting the season in February (and subsequently buying both soundtracks, converting officemates on lunch breaks, and watching the whole thing through about three times since), I’m officially hooked. Another hilariously politically incorrect antagonist (“I empower my cheerleaders to be champions. Do they go to college? I don’t know. I don’t care. Should they learn Spanish? Sure, if they wanna become dishwashers and gardeners”), an ongoing theme of  losers and nerds coming out on top, half the cast of Heroes, and amazing numbers – this one has it all.

Do watch the videos! What’s keeping you glued to your seats these days??

Get Your Freak On Friday

So I know a couple of weeks ago I mentioned I was going to be doing this regular feature… did anyone SEE the crazy bizarre Hot Chip video from last time?? I decided to keep it up – I know I don’t really listen to a lot of “mainstream” music, but I listen to a lot of new stuff (thank you BBC radio) and lately I’ve come across some real corkers. Get Your Freak On Friday is about music, about “what makes you tap your toes, bob your head, wiggle your fingers, cry like an infant, dance like an orangutan, or want to throw things. You list a song and what you do because of it.”

Here’s how it works:
1. Paste the button into your post, linking back to Tristan.
2. Write about aforementioned song. Any one you like.
3. Post the link to your post on Tristan’s post’s Mr. Linky.

This week, I’m currently loving the first proper single from the band Hurts – I’d heard their “pre-single” Wonderful Life last year, which was getting a lot of love across the indie/alternative scene, and recently, they’ve released Better Than Love, which is definitely my current favourite record. It’s fresh, ’80s new wave revival in an original way, and I love their whole look, too – minimalist, black and white, clean cut – very vintage in a post-modern kinda way.  Crank this one up and dance your way into the weekend…

Quickhits of Happy

This week has been going all sorts of wonderfully, and I had to share with you guys – in bullet-pointy goodness:

  • On Tuesday, I officially started in my new position at work. I arrived like a total keener at 7:15 after the long weekend, and the first thing I did was not setting up my computer… it was decorating!!  I have two big windows, blinds, tonnes of space for photos and plants… I absolutely love it! I must admit that it is a little different having my own space and I do miss my old officemates, but we’ve started making plans outside of work. Which is lovely 🙂 I’m learning tonnes in my new role, too, and am being given all sorts of marketing and promotion responsibility – which is perfect!
  • I also secured some contract work through a good friend, which has been keeping me busy and allowing me to be creative, and gain some more design experience (for a pretty big company, too), all adding to the portfolio. Three hurrahs for networking, and big thanks to ItStartsWith.Us’s Nate St. Pierre!
  • Great Skype dates with blog friends and surprise packages in the mail are awesome. Thanks to Jen for the beautiful handmade apron!
  • Tonight I start my Creative Writing class – as much as I love blogging and writing articles, I’m looking forward to more imaginative writing opportunities too, and hopefully I’ll meet some new people while I’m there. I’m excited, but I kind of feel like a bit of a noob never having attended the college before 🙂
  • More good news came this week regarding Nan – last time I wrote, she’d taken a turn for the worse, but this week, after speaking to my dad, it seems our prayers were heard – the reason for her confusion was because she was being put on morphine and sedatives constantly – which was awful. She’s been moved to a different place, where she has the option for pain killers but is choosing not to take them, and is being given rehabilitation exercises to help her get better. My dad spoke to her this week, and said she is sounding much like herself again – I’m thrilled!! Thank you SO much for all your kind thoughts and prayers…
  • And perhaps the best news of all this week is that Sweet and I will be visiting her in August. We decided instead of taking a honeymoon after the wedding, it was more important to go see Nan so they could both meet before the wedding, and I’ll get to see my friends, my home, my country… and show Sweet where I grew up. We leave for England on the 5th August for ten days, and already have our first day planned sightseeing, taking in a West End musical, museums, and staying over in a posh hotel. Ooh, and Stephen? International blogger meetup? 🙂  The rest of the trip will be spent visiting Nan, travelling by train like proper tourists, catching up with old friends, and hopefully a day trip or two to Ireland or France while we’re there. Our pockets are definitely hurting, but I think it’s most definitely worth it. I can’t wait to tell Nan the news, and to see her again – she’ll be over the moon!!

What are some highlights of your week so far?

The Next Tattoo Chapter

Many years ago, as some of you know, I was in a relationship with someone who was bad news bears (thank you Ashley for teaching me my new favourite expression!!). I’m not going to go into too much detail – it was hands down the most difficult period of my entire life, and led to my darkest hour – a story to save for another day.  But during this relationship, in a fit of pre-deterioration, honeymoon period infatuation, we decided to get matching tattoos.  Smart cookies, no? Luckily we were slightly smarter than getting red hearts and lovebirds carrying scrolls bearing each other’s names forever branded on our skins, but we still went ahead pretty hardcore. We got a design comprised of our initials, superimposed on each other and stylised in a way that looked nothing like letters, but some sort of chunky tribal symbol.

The relationship declined, the heart was battered to a pulp, and eventually the memories disappeared into the archives of Life Experience, yet the mark on my back remained.  A constant reminder of the naivety of my younger self, the mistakes, the time I sometimes wish I could take back. But I constantly remind myself that life throws us these things to give us opportunities to learn and grow. Perhaps I was a stubborn girl back then. Perhaps, had I not gone through what I did, I never would have had any reason to push myself forward, and strive to reach the potential I hope I possess. We can become bitter about the past, or we can become better because of it. With everything, no matter how difficult, I try to stick to the latter.

But last week, I came to the realisation that I wanted this thing off my back more than I was scared of the pain it would undoubtedly cause. Many of you know about my back condition, and may remember my desperate attempt at relief a few months ago, involving dozens of injections along my spine… and promptly going into uncontrollable convulsions. (You can’t say I’m not a trooper!)

So the thought of getting this tattoo reworked into something I’m not ashamed of, though extremely tempting, is also extremely scary. I met with an artist this week who informed me that to get what I want (and effectively cover up what I have), will in all likelihood end up being half a back piece.  The size doesn’t scare me – I love tattoos, and I love the idea of having something meaningful on my body for the rest of my life – but the extreme pain does.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m HARDLY a wuss – I sat through this one in one sitting while heavy black shading was done over my SPINE – and I know if I didn’t have this problem with my back muscles, it would be a walk in the park (I have a second one on the nape of my neck, which is pain-free, and I didn’t blink an eye).  But this is in Prime Pain Area, which leaves me more than a little nervous.

Nervous, but determined. With less than 8 months to go until my wedding, I want to get this taken care of. Pronto.  Even if it means going every three weeks just for an hour at a time until November. The trouble now, is finding something that will work with what I already have.  I loved this one here – but it has too much white space to really go over the chunky black I already have.  I love Celtic style tattoos, too – but they have the same problem.  I’ve decided I really want to get a phoenix – I love the symbolism of continual growth and new beginnings. But I don’t want a big chunky tribal symbol taking over my whole back because it’s the only thing that works.  This is where I come to you guys. Do you have any idea what I could do to cover this thing up, in less than 7 total hours (I don’t think I could tolerate the pain for more than an hour at a time), that doesn’t involve a thick black MAN tattoo?

Lean On Me

When Brittney asked me to guest post for her, I was so excited I started clapping right there at my desk (one of many “cool” things I do when I get exciting mail, along with verbal exclamations and actually asking questions out loud) – then she mentioned the topic, and I was totally sold. One of the many reasons I love Britt is her love of animals and her huge heart for their welfare, so when I was asked to write about my own little cat, I was all over it!

This, ladies and gents, is Miss Rose Kitten. She was named Rose after the Doctor Who character (told you I was one of the cool kids!), but answered more readily to “Kitten”, and has since become kind of a hybrid, although she mostly goes by “Kit Kit”.  It’s pretty fitting – though she’s grown from a little puffball who sat in my hands to a sleek, well proportioned lady, she still has a total kitten heart. She’s definitely got her own voice and personality, so much so that I left a “how to” guide for my dad when he was cat-sitting in January – complete with instructions on batting, cat volleyball, and hide and seek.

I have a ridiculous amount of love for this cat. Honestly? I’ve actually had conversations with my boy about what we’re going to do if I end up loving the cat more than my own child!!  I’ve never had a pet I’ve felt such a link with before – as a kitten, she’d hop into the shower with me, get totally soggy and come our wrapped in a clean towel, and get blowdried along with my hair.  She wants to be involved with anything I’m doing – reading the newspaper? She’s ON the paper. Marking papers? On the pile.  Watching TV? She has her own designated Movie Spot on the couch.  And don’t even get me started on unpacking the groceries. When I get home in the evenings from work, it’s Postbox Time. She’ll run over to the front door and wait for me to take of my shoes, open it up, and carry her outside for 30 seconds to get the letters. In summer she’ll come out on a leash.  If she were a person, she’d totally be an athlete. Games are her favourite thing in the world – we have a fluffy ball hanging from a string from our banister, and every night we’ll hear little thuds of cat leaps as we’re watching TV.  Paper balls, tennis balls – anything that rolls, she’ll play football with, batting it along the ground as I tackle her down.  We’ll go to one end of a room together where she’ll flop down on her side, ready for me to scoot her along the carpet as she “paddles” her way forward. It’s PRICELESS. And she even helps with the cooking!

What I love most about my little miss isn’t just her adorable little quirks. Or the fact that she will always be there for a hug after a hard day, or to cuddle under a blanket with while I’m cold. It’s the way she just seems to tune in to what’s going on.  I don’t know how many times I’ve been sad, or ill, or crying, and she’ll just trot on delicately over and rub her head on my shoulder, or lean her forehead on mine. How she’ll flop down and start paddling across the floor by herself to make me laugh when I’m feeling stressed.  How she’ll sacrifice the “fat lap” (she ALWAYS cuddles up with the boy, not me!) if I’m feeling a little low and come over to snuggle with me instead.  Our pets may not be able to speak English (you have no idea how badly I wanted a talking cat as a kid. Salem was my hero!), but I’m certain, especially Miss Rose Kitten, they’re more in tune with our ups and downs than we think.

I was told once that pets’ personalities reflect those of their owners.  And if it’s true, it makes me smile to wonder what this says about me.  I know no matter what, I can count on my little cat.  I don’t know what I’d do without her. And seriously? A default Scrabble partner? I think I’m just about the luckiest girl in the world!


Ups and Downs

So, the past week has continued to be an incredible turnaround of events, most of which extremely positive! This weekend, Sweet and I spent some good quality time together with sushi dinners and Star Trek marathons, went out for a little dancing, reconnected with some old friends and spent time with new ones. On Friday, I also got the news that at work, they’d found a need for me to stay in a position for another three months guaranteed, with the hope that within those three months, the new position they proposed for will be created, which will become permanent.  So, until 2nd July, I am officially not going to be unemployed! I’m also moving into a new role with another project, focused almost entirely on design and marketing (!), and as of next week I’ll be officially in my very own office. With blinds and a door and everything. Which makes me feel rather grown-up indeed 🙂

Sadly though, I got some pretty bad news this weekend about my Nan.  The doctors had decided the surgery on her shoulder would be too risky, and so they’ve moved her into a rehabilitation hospital.  She started the week off wonderfully, in great spirits to be out of a hospital bed and into her own room with a TV and company… however by the end of the week, things had worsened. Considerably. She’s refusing to eat or drink, doing abnormal things (which were very disturbing, one of which involved flushing her false teeth down the toilet so she can’t eat solid food), wandering off, and just being generally “antsy”, as my Dad put it. She’s also been drugged up on morphine throughout the day – which isn’t a long-term solution, but nobody seems to be doing anything to focus on a lasting plan for her.  Sweet and I have been praying for her strength and her recovery, and hoping this is just symptomatic of the stress of moving and the morphine… hopefully a physiological response which can be rectified. I can’t bear to think of my Nan like this.

This week is extremely bittersweet. I’m flooded with a combination of relief, worry, excitement and hope, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned recently, it’s the power of positive thinking.  Thank you so much for being here, all of you, not just this past week, but in general, through the bad and the good.  If you could spare a thought or a prayer for my Nan today, it would mean the world.

A call, an answer, and to new beginnings

First order of business: you guys are AWESOME.  Seriously, the emails, comments, texts, and cards in the MAIL made me feel tonnes better after the weekend, and I hope you know how much I appreciate every single one of you.

It’s been four days since everything went down this weekend, and I cannot even begin to describe how incredible they’ve been. On Sunday, I was hit with an unexpected blow, and after a few tears, I found in my inbox a message from one of my favourite bloggers.  It posed the question: “It may seem challenging, but when have you not been up for a challenge?” It threw me back to the last time I felt overwhelmed by something.  Back to almost a year ago, when I was afraid of everything. So crippled by the fear of judgment from others, so desperate to be living a different life, one where I could lead groups, speak my opinion, and be free of worry, perfectly secure in myself.  Back to when I made the decision to change everything.  Fast-forward a year, and I’m finishing up almost six months of teaching weekly classes, offering my thoughts in meetings, even singing in front of people. The journey still has miles left to go, but what I’m learning along the way, those tiny victories, give me the belief I can carry on. And the kick in the pants that I can do the same thing all over again if I have to.

When life throws us curveballs, I’m trying to grow into the person that realises the choice they have as to how to deal with them. Instead of taking the easy road into self-pity, when things aren’t going our way, we can get up and face the world head-on, taking new roads and new opportunities we may never have thought to try.  When one door slams harshly on our faces, we can struggle in vain to unlock it again – or we can walk away. Try a new one.  And see where it leads us.

Hannah’s words made me realise I had that opportunity. So Monday’s post was me putting it out to the universe – and the universe, in the last three days, has delivered. HARD CORE.  I was surprised that very afternoon, whilst at my desk at work, by a phone call from one Nate St. Pierre, down in the States, asking me what I planned on doing for lunch the next day.  I don’t think I’d ever been so simultaneously thrilled and confused! He explained that someone he’d spent a week with recently exploring Napa Valley, California, just so happened, according to Google Earth, to work two blocks down the street from me, and he thought we’d have a lot in common, and might hit it off! So Tuesday I went for my “blind date” – and had a wonderful lunch with his friend. We talked charity work, social media, travel, immigration to Canada, work – work! She just so happened to be pretty high up with a very well known chain of restaurants, and passed my info along to the regional manager – who called me today to see if I’d like to meet to talk about marketing and promotion while he was in town. During the first week of April. AKA my first week of unemployment. Coincidence? I don’t know, but all I know is I’m stunned by the impeccable timing of this wonderful twist of fate, and feeling rather excited indeed.

I also went out for lunch this week with a great coworker, who sadly is leaving the same day as me – we’ve shared many a laugh, a Glee-fest and a thought-provoking discussion since we’ve shared an office, and I’ll miss seeing her every day dreadfully – but at lunch this week, we talked about outside-of-work plans, including tea, good TV, and working on our goal of singing in front of people together.  I’m totally excited to spend more time with her!

And then today, I arrived home to a bit of a surprising email – from a friend I hadn’t spoken to in years.  I was shocked, initially – but after I finished reading it, I was literally jumping up and down.  We’d fallen out over something silly, and she’d read my post on Monday, and decided to reach out.  We used to be extremely close, and I was often sad she was no longer around – and all of a sudden, by random fluke, she finds my post, and decides to take a risk.  And it couldn’t have come at a better time.  This was the girl that I used to see multiple times a week, have endless conversations with, trade music with and convert to all my British TV. 🙂  Her email reminded me of how I’d felt about Sweet and I – we used to date years ago, didn’t speak for at least five, and had a second chance… after we’d had some time to learn more about ourselves, about the world.  And once we’d grown up a little, we got the chance to give it another go.  This time, the timing was right. And I’m awfully hopeful it’ll be a similar case with her, too.  We’re meeting to catch up this time next week – and I can’t wait.

I’m gobsmacked at the fact it’s only been a matter of days. And at the difference the power of choice can make.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned recently in life, it’s that we really do have the ability to shape our lives.  It’s just a matter of deciding what choice to make.  Sometimes, when you profess your desire for change to the universe, it really does deliver, with more rapidity and assurance than you ever could’ve hoped.

Despite many things right now still being very much up in the air, I’m feeling a heck of a lot more comfortable that everything’s going to work out just fine.  And I owe a great deal of that, my dears, to you guys.

Here’s to the next chapter…

Finding Friendship (and not with Level 69 Paladins in Netherstorm)

A couple of weeks ago, the ever-lovely Tabitha posted about making real life friends, with real life people, as a real life adult.  One of the reasons I love blogging so much is because you guys really ARE friends – we email, text, chat, and apparently now, vlog, and I’m sure it won’t be long until I’m on the Sykpe bandwagon – but let’s face it: I have very few real life friends. As of this weekend, pretty much zero.

I don’t have a standing Friday night cocktail date with a tight group of four à la Sex and the City.  I don’t do Sunday pancakes or brunch with anyone other than my lovely Dad.  And I had to cancel my St. Patrick’s Day party because I had a grand total of two people confirm, and I refuse to be a total Billy-No-Mates in my own home.

I see people on Facebook, people who’ve grown in cliques or stayed in the same groups they did in high school, and sometimes I long for that feeling. A feeling of closeness, like a mini family you share everything with, fun times, memories, board games nights, trips out of town, and nights out – memories, and a solid network you know you can rely on. It kind of reminds me of that scene in About A Boy, where he’s talking about how two people aren’t enough, because if one person drops off, you’re left on your own. I can’t help but feel this happened this weekend, and other than David and my little cat, I have nobody in my physical real life.  I try and go above and beyond to try and make other people’s lives better, easier… and it’s worthless. At work, I’m probably getting laid off, and at home, I’m told people’s lives would be better off without me in them.  I’m more than a little heartbroken.

Tabitha’s post got me thinking. In this day and age, when most mid-twenty-somethings have already got their friendships well and truly formed, how do you break in – and not look like a desperate weirdo? Is it even possible at this age, or have we missed our chances? I wish I lived in another city, another place… Illinois, perhaps, where I’m sure Jen and I would hang out all the time, and I could meet up with Brittany for lunch every other day while living in Ashley’s spare room, where we’d share stories and play video games all night.  Or Texas, where I know I’d definitely move into the same neighbourhood as Brittney, and we’d spend Friday nights baking cupcakes and watching girly movies while Audrey and Rose chased each other around. In an ideal world, there’d be one big city with all of you living in it, and I could just come and join the party.  But I’m stuck here, in a city I don’t particularly like very much, where people hundreds of miles away show more interest and friendship than 95% of my real life “friends” on Facebook. And I can’t help  but feel like somewhere along the way, I did something wrong. Or wonder if there’s something wrong with me.

I know life happens.  I know people move around the globe like chess pieces and before long, everyone who was once a ten minute drive away is now somewhere else, seen only in photographs, and heard only through words on a screen.  I know I’m blessed to have people around the globe that I know, were it possible, would be here in a heartbeat if I needed them.  Seriously – those of you who reached out this weekend, you have NO idea how much your words meant to me.  Don’t get me wrong, I like my alone time. I like cooking and writing blogs and reading books and watching TV with Sweet. I like karaokeing to Rock Band all by myself. I cherish the lunches I have with my Dad. But I can’t shake the feeling that I should have some sort of… network, shouldn’t I? People to dress up and go dancing with, or take turns hosting dinner parties with, be in a book club with, or go shopping for 8 hours with, laughing and reminiscing the whole time.

I run into people regularly who I’d love to be friends with.  The girl who does my nails every 3 weeks, who goes on holiday with all her coworkers.  The massage therapist I see once a week who chats about Star Trek and music, and exchanges bad roommate stories with me.  The girl at the tanning salon who’s full of tips for my wedding, and the people at work who share so many of the same interests and stories… but wouldn’t hang out regularly with someone 10 or 20 years younger. Asking any of them out for coffee or a movie would either come off as an awkward lesbian pick up line or cross professional boundaries, making future encounters potentially uncomfortable.

There are countless books and websites and services out there to match people up in relationships in this world.  Compatibility tests, blind dates and questionnaires to fill out to ensure a perfect fit with someone you hope to spend the rest of your life with. But why must it be so difficult to find companionship?  Is it just that I missed my chance?  I really count my blessings for having you guys, and for everything Sweet does for me and brings to my life. I felt like the luckiest girl alive when I read so many kind and concerned words this weekend from many of you. But I can’t help but wonder – is it too late in life to find real-world friends?

Get Your Freak On Friday

I’d been toying with the idea of a regular feature for a while, and last week, I found the perfect fit over at Ashley’s blog: Get Your Freak On Friday! It’s about music (which is awesome), about “what makes you tap your toes, bob your head, wiggle your fingers, cry like an infant, dance like an orangutan, or want to throw things. You list a song and what you do because of it.”

Here’s how it works:
1. Paste the button into your post, linking back to Tristan.
2. Write about aforementioned song. Any one you like.
3. Post the link to your post on Tristan’s post’s Mr. Linky.

Now I’m adding in a component here, because it’s impossible when a song is accompanied by an amazing music video not to talk about the video, but this week I came across two of them that were pretty awesome. I’m sure most of you have seen the 10-minute product placement extravaganza that’s being dubbed the “new Thriller“, and I must admit I enjoyed it thoroughly.  I love it when pop stars totally defy the conventional, and accompany what sounds like a generic dance floor filler with an 18-rated video comprised of  dead bodies, jailbait ladies, nudity, and a Tarantino-esque killing spree.  Not seen it yet? Take a peek:

Pretty creepy, no? But then I saw the new Hot Chip video, which pushes the bizarre a little further. If you’re not familiar with Hot Chip, they’re an English, Grammy-nominated indie electro-pop band who brought the world ‘Over and Over’, NME’s 2006 single of the year, described as an “insanely catchy kitchen-sink club-stomper; a rhapsodic, DFA-sized slice of smart pop.”  So when I heard the video for their new single ‘I Feel Better’ being described as out-weirding Ms. Gaga, I had to check it out.  “What happens when you let comedian Peter Serafinowicz loose on a pop video?”, asks national newspaper The Guardian. Are you sure you really want to know?

Taking a stab at boy bands, a laser-breathing Christ-like figure, and a floating head… you know you’ve got a corker when you can no longer listen to the song without picturing JLS-lookalikes getting obliterated.  Brilliantly weird – this was definitely the week for the compelling and the bizarre!

The Dark Side

There’s been a new girl in town since I first posted about my job situation – and I must confess: I don’t like her one bit.

She’s easily irritated, quick to aggravate, and finds her face hurting at the end of the day after sporting a constant and unbecoming frown. She lashes out and retreats from any form of human affection, instead preferring to curl up, alone, scowling at the world. Her heart thumps harder in true fight-or-flight fashion in a vain effort to beat out of her chest, desperate to get away from the stress of the situation in which its owner is placed. Her cheeks flush and hands tremble in a feeble effort to join it. She stomps down slushy streets unaffected by the mess she’ll make, pretending to talk on a cell phone, led forward by gritty perseverance and furrowed brows, no longer stopping to smile at strangers, or hold open doors. The black of her clothes complements the storm clouds of her demeanour, and the love and compassion of her soul has already escaped, leaving behind an ill-tempered, hostile recluse; an empty cage where her heart used to be.

She knows not where she is going. All control over her situation her been extricated, leaving her reluctantly in a dusty and derelict limbo. Her hands have been pried open; her grip on the future that seemed so solid lost. The world’s endeavours of peace and reassurance evaporate before seeping through into her heart, obstructed by an invisible armour impenetrable to all.

She falls asleep alone, accompanied only by her tears, a downpour of melancholy over the landscape of her bed. Even sleep cannot maintain a hold on her, and retreats elsewhere in the world of dreamers, along with efforts of love and kindness also given the cold shoulder. She spends her nights awake, afraid, entirely unable to let anyone in or see a way out.

This is her opposite – the girl whose life is led contrary to everything she believes and holds dear. Except somehow, in this time of dreadful uncertainty, she’s moved in. Taken over. Destroying everything normal, shaking it up with the hand of ambiguity, removing everything positive… imprisoning reality and unleashing the indefinite nightmare of limbo.

I can’t deal with this. All I need is answers, and nobody is able to give any. I’m asked to participate in an almost farcical scenario in which I act as if I’ll be let go in two weeks, training others and handing off all my duties – but also told not to worry, because I might be kept on.  It’s wrong, and every day is more stressful than the last.  I feel unappreciated and expendable, after I’ve put my heart and soul into this job.  I feel betrayed at being given hope for two months only to be brought suddenly into a harsh reality. But I don’t seem able to switch off. I just want this weight to be lifted, this uncertainty resolved.  I’ve never felt such panic, despair, loss of positivity – my outlook and behaviour this week feels alien. I’m doing everything I try so hard to avoid. I just want to feel normal again.

Progress?

Last week, we’d been blessed with sunny skies and temperatures hovering just slightly below zero (officially coat-free weather!), and I know that spring is in the air.  Unfortunately spring here in Winnipeg means vast amounts of water and brown slush everywhere for several weeks, but with the imminence of warmer horizons I can’t help but feel excited as we move into another season.  As we move forward I have to remind myself to reflect back – those New Year’s Resolutions aren’t going to be maintained if they’re not addressed every once in a while, so today: a quick check in, to make sure my arse remains firmly in gear.

My first was to read a book a month. I know this is a laughably puny goal compared to some of you literary connoisseurs but my heart has always belonged to the written word, and it’s a goal I was determined to keep (if not exceed). I’m happy to say I’m still on track, and last month picked up The Lovely Bones – I refuse to see a movie without first reading its inspiration, and so far, it’s absolutely gripping.

Second – the whole driving thing.  The resulting treachery from daytime melting and nighttime freezing has left even walking a feat not to be undertaken without protection, so it’s still on the backburner for now – but this time in a month or two, I may very well be reporting to you from the driver’s seat.  Or (likelier) from behind my Driver’s Handbook.

Third: Becoming pain-free.  I started seeing a massage therapist earlier in February who had a background in osteopathy (gold!), and have been seeing him weekly since.  Yes, each session involves lots of pain, yelling and tears, but is balanced out nicely with information that actually makes sense – and a weekly dose of nerdiness as we chat about Star Trek and Scandinavian power metal. Definite bonus.  Apparently I have a case of “sacral and pelvic torsion” at the base of my spine, trapping all the nerves on one side and making the entire other side of my back hurt ALL THE TIME. The way he explained it made sense, for once – so I’m going to plough through another few sessions and see how it feels at the end of March.  Fingers crossed (I only have coverage to carry me through until then, anyway!).

Number four: Losing the anxiety.  I taught my biggest group yet in February, and through initially terrified by an almost-full house, relaxed halfway through and found the key to comfort and confidence is to make things funny.  People who don’t really want to be there will relate more easily if you make them laugh, and once you’ve caught them, they’re more likely to retain/be interested in the information.  I’m going to revise my PowerPoints over the next few weeks, learn to relax a bit more, and make people laugh.

I’ve probably said this to you already in an email, but everyone who commented on my “Real Self Portrait” post– you have no idea how much you’ve helped me in addressing that part of my nervousness.  Thank you so much for sharing and for reaching out – I’ve learned recently that other people don’t see or pay attention to the flaws I see in myself.  I’m just retraining my mind to not be so quick to criticise myself and actually give credit to some of the positive things other people say about me.  You’ve helped me so much in my ongoing journey and for that I am truly thankful from the bottom of my heart.

Five! Cooking! Did any of you try the awesome salmon recipe from a few weeks ago?  Recently we’ve made a few more dishes, no exploding noodles this time but a great (simple) lemon pepper shrimp pasta.  We’re going to move on to more adventurous things in the next couple of weeks, I swear, but I’m still learning lots along the way.

And lastly – singing in front of people.  LiLu posted a great guide on how to pwn at karaoke recently, and Sweet and I have been powering through Rock Band on Friday nights and I’m getting more and more comfortable. Maybe I’ll have the guts to vlog it sometime. Or try real karaoke.  But the most important thing is it’s not intimidating me half as much as it used to – I’m almost excited to get back on stage!

So how am I doing? I think this is the first time I’ve really held myself accountable to keeping my annual goals, and it’s a fun process. I’m learning, I’m happier, and I’m growing.  And big thanks to you guys for helping keep me motivated. How are you doing with your resolutions?

And PS: Totally recorded my vlog and answered all your questions last night.  GOODNESS am I awkward on camera!! Will post on Friday… 🙂

Pieces of the Past

When my dad returned home last week from England, he brought with him a slew of boxes and envelopes, which accompanied him to my doorstep this past Saturday.  Inside ranged everything from childhood photographs of me to my grandad’s pocket watch, complete with a receipt from fifty years ago, to my nan’s prayer book from when she was a girl, accompanied by a miniature gold St. Christopher necklace.  We reminisced for hours about times gone by, and explored the history vaults to learn incredible things about our family’s past.

While he’d been out there, his main goal was to get the family together to show my nan, still in hospital, that there are people that care for her immensely.  Some of these people hadn’t seen her (or each other) in twenty years. Four fifths of my lifetime.  Things which can drive people apart for years can seem so insignificant at times like these, and naturally, the reunion was emotional.  But what made me happiest wasn’t just the news of a reunion, but the report back from my dad.  When he’d first arrived, he said, my nan had looked like she’d “given up.”  Frail, weak, alone – given  up on the world.  By the end of the week she’d been reunited with her own sister, her sons, daughter and grandchildren, and was a “different woman”.  Colour in her cheeks and a smile on her face, and to hear those words warmed my heart.

He’d also met some other relatives while out there, one of which had been researching the family’s genealogy, and sent me some very interesting information along with the box of treasures my dad carried home.  I saw original birth certificates dating back to the 1800s, newspaper articles and letters from the 1940s, old birthday cards from my dad, as a boy, to his mum, and stories and secrets wilder than I could’ve imagined.  His dad’s wallet, home to several old photographs of his children, his wife, and letters we daren’t open, I imagine etched with words from the heart – words which may have been lost over time, but remained immortalised on a piece of paper he carried with him always.  My dad also gave me a small cap – as seen in this photograph of him as a boy with his mum and dad, loved, gleeful and surrounded by pigeons! I’ve always adored this photo, and have it framed on my desk here as I write this, and now I, too, have a little piece of our history.

The last few months, as you know, have been hard for me, being so far from my nan, and the family really coming together again after all this time really made me think.  How easy it is to allow the little disagreements with loved ones blow completely out of proportion, and before too long, days, months, years go by. We can be so quick to allow a disagreement manifest into a full on grudge, which, like a thief in the night, before too long has stolen away a chunk of your life – a piece of time that can never be taken back.  It usually takes something big to make us realise that the power given to a grudge will only repay us with a harsh regret; a sharp awakening to the reality of  time lost.  There too often is never a second chance to be had to go back, to try again, to instead be filled with swift apologies, good memories, assurances of love.  I’m so thankful my nan was able to be reunited with her family, and so very proud of my dad for lifting the veil of bitterness to reveal what’s really more important.

It’s given me food for thought.  Life is flying by ever more quickly with every day that fleets across my path, and though so often in times of disagreement, I’m quick to want to move forward – I know I’m guilty of allowing things to affect me for far too long afterward.  I allow my heart to wallow if wounded, to perpetuate despondency instead of more quickly realising that life really is too short, and we should do all we can to spend as much of it as possible making the most of the time (and the people) we’re given.  It’s something I think we can all work on.

I don’t want to give any more time than necessary to conflict or sadness. I want to fill my days with laughter and love, and look back at a shoebox in fifty years full of a new generation of letters, memories and happiness.  Let’s make the most of the days we’ve been given, yes? And next time we’re faced with post-argument remorse, let’s try to remember, in the subsequent moments, that we really do have a choice.  We can choose to swallow our pride, and get on with making the best of life.

How Do You Define Success?

Today I have the honour of guest posting for ItStartsWith.Us, an incredible project whose goal it is to build a global community of individuals focused on making a positive impact in the lives of the people around them.  You can read the post here, and if you’d like to comment, just click on the link below. 🙂

I first moved to Canada when I was fifteen years old, leaving behind England, the country that had raised me, enveloped me in rich culture, history, and left an insatiable appetite for all things British.  My childhood was filled with visits to old cathedrals, quality time with my grandparents, and spending as much time as I possibly could outside.  When I wasn’t playing football with other kids on the street, we were choreographing dances and orchestrating fundraiser talent shows for the neighbours.  I remember feeling an incredible sense of pride when letters from the British Red Cross and the World Wildlife Fund arrived, thanking us for our donation which, looking back, could only have been miniscule – but we didn’t care.  We were helping, and it made us feel like pretty decent kids.

Soon after I landed in Canada, I turned into a little bit of a recluse.  Overwhelmed by culture shock, I retreated into a shell, worried about being judged, about being different – all the while observing just how different things were here.  I’d come from a school where students were scolded for having their shirts untucked, or for wearing more than one pair of earrings.  Here, kids were in designer hoodies and jeans, with highlights in their hair and fake tans, their faces masked with heaps of lip gloss and eyeliner.  At the time, I remember feeling so different, so out of the social loop.  Everyone was so focused on being popular and liked, and I didn’t know what to do.  Every teenager wants to fit in – but I’d come from leading groups of kids where we’d spend our spare time singing, fundraising, and trying to make a difference in the world – and here I was, surrounded by people spending their parents’ money on fancy clothes and trying to look cool.  Our priorities clashed, and I was overcome with a longing to fit in, but to also stay true to my beliefs. I kept quiet and observed.

I got my first job at sixteen, and like many teenagers, worked my way through a series of corporate, hierarchical retail jobs where emphasis was placed on money, and success was determined by the number of additional things you could sell to people who didn’t want or need them.  It made me uncomfortable, but it paid the rent for years before I landed my first office job.  It was in a little print shop, and I was the graphic designer.  I was told I was to charge customers “by the minute”.  Sweet old ladies would come in asking for Christmas letters to be typed, and I’d do it with a smile – but was punished if I made their couple of word changes without charging them extra.  I stayed there for two years before landing my current job – at my first non-profit organization.

The culture shift was incredible.  There was zero focus on money – this place was simply in existence to help people, to teach them skills they could use to move forward in life.  Success was determined by the number of people who found employment – people whose lives were changed for the better.  I’ve never been happier – in a world which seems so focused on climbing the corporate ladder, on being popular, on making more money – society seems to be dominated by a self-focused mentality.  We have to be more attractive, thinner, live in bigger houses, make more money than everyone else, and then what? We’re “successful”?  As I’ve grown up, especially in the last few years, my definition of success has changed drastically.  Success, to me, is no longer defined in monetary terms or by possessions.  I’ve seen so many people in my work whose lives are affected by bad circumstances, poor choices, peer pressure, domestic abuse… the list goes on.  There are so many people out there who face such hardships behind closed doors, and in this self-serving world in which we live, sometimes a shift in what we deem important can make all the difference on earth.  Your smile may be the only one someone sees all day.  Your small act of kindness or compassion – asking them how they are, holding the door open, carrying their bags – may just be the most touching thing they experience all week.  Taking a few minutes in a day to take the focus off ourselves, and onto making a small difference in someone’s life, can go a long way.  That’s why I was thrilled when I heard about the ItStartsWith.Us project.  The more people making small changes in the world, the better off the planet.  We’re so privileged, sitting in our warm homes, accessing the internet with anything we desire at our fingertips.  There are so many people out there affected by so much adversity, and I think if we could all make a little shift in focus, from ourselves to helping others, the world would be a very different place.

I encourage you to take a moment today to really count your blessings, because despite the curveballs life throws our way, we have so much in our lives for which to be thankful.  Take a moment not to think about what you’re going to have for supper tomorrow, or where you’re going to go out on Friday night – but about what you can do to make someone else’s day that little bit better, no matter how small.  You never know how much of a difference it could make.

If you’d like to comment directly at ItStartsWith.Us, please click here.