ABCs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

H – Have never tried: Smoking

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

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

K – Kindred Spirit: Kyla

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

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

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

O – Occasional Indulgence: Expensive tea

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

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

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

S – Sorry About: My younger self’s naivety

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

U – Uninterested In: Office politics

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

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

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

Y – Yummiest Desert: Butterscotch Angel Delight

Z – Zodiac Sign: Gemini, just about

On blowing my bank account in Montreal this weekend

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

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

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

When too much becomes too much

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fig409BackMusclesTrP

How sweet the sound

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

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

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

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

gs_jcmaxwell2_full

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More mold with your salad? How about some hair?

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

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

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

The fringe’ll fix it

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!!